


Love Game

by CydSA



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tennis, Explicit Language, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing doubles with your former rival and lover wasn’t exactly the comeback Jensen Ackles was looking to make. Jensen wanted to be at the top of the ATP tour again and right now, Jared Padalecki was his only ticket. Jared was a part of the past he wasn’t particularly proud of. Since his knee injury three years ago, Jensen had alienated everyone around him. If playing doubles with Jared was the only way he could get back on the tour then Jensen would take it. Even if it meant being constantly around the one person who’d always tied him up in knots and was long overdue an apology. Life fucking sucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Game

**THEN**

****

_smash_

  
_All England Club, Wimbledon, England_  


Jensen laughed as Rafa lobbed a ball at him. “You’re getting soft, old man,” he said and Rafa flipped him off.

“You got how many, five years on me?” Rafa called back across the net. “Who you call old man, old man?” His next ball came at Jensen like a rocket and Jensen barely got to it in time. He managed to hit a semi-smooth cross-court backhand and Rafa scrambled to get it.

Jensen gave a crow of delight when Rafa missed. “Five years, my ass!” he shouted. Rafa snorted and muttered something in Spanish. “I can understand you, asshole! Spanish is my second language.” 

Rafa laughed and set up to serve again. Jensen tensed in anticipation.

The Spaniard had met him in the lobby and suggested that they practice together. “You know, so I catch your weak points.”

Jensen had quickly agreed. Kane was still hung-over from the night before and Jensen needed someone to hit balls with.

They’d been going at it for about an hour now and, this being Wimbledon, had drawn a bit of a crowd. Jensen looked around and spotted several faces he recognized.

“Hey, Roger, come and join us; Rafa needs some help on his side of the net!” he called and skipped out of the way of a ball aimed right at him.

“It’s okay,” Federer called back, his eyes dancing. “I’ll finish him off when you’re done with him.”

“Rogelio!” Rafa looked betrayed. “I can’t believe you take side of American bastard!”

Roger shrugged. “Hey, I’m on _my_ side,” he grinned and his normally serious face lit up. “You let Jensen beat on you a little then he’s easy victim after.”

Rafa gave a good-natured scowl. “I no pat your shoulder when you lose in final, Rogelio,” he warned.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “And where do I figure in this apparent Nadal-Federer love-fest?” he asked. “We’re all in the quarters, remember.”

“Eh,” Rafa shrugged. “I beat David, Roger beat Andy, Nole beat Jared and you beat Juan then we meet in semis.” He grinned. “Then we see. But it will be me and Rogi again in final. You see.”

Jensen looked at Roger who’d come to join them. “He’s cocky,” he told Roger, nodding towards Rafa.

“Yeah,” Roger smiled and winked at Rafa. “It’s one of the many things I like about him.”

Jensen wandered to the edge of the court, leaned against the net-pole, and watched Roger and Rafa exchange rallies. They knew each other so well it was sort of eerie watching them move before the other had even hit the ball. 

It was the worst kept secret on tour that Roger, Rafa and Mirka had some kind of weird partner-sharing shit going on. He didn’t really want to know the details except he actually really did.

“Have you two ever thought of playing doubles?” he asked as Roger skated a volley over the net and Rafa hit it back with enough top-spin to send it bouncing to the other side of the court.

“Would be no fair.” Rafa shook his head. “No one win against us.”

Roger stopped and looked at Jensen. “Maybe when I retire from singles competition,” he said and Rafa snorted a laugh.

“Rogi, you never retire. The Bionic Man you called.” 

Roger put his hands on his hips. “Are you saying I’m not human?” he asked. 

Rafa’s dark eyes twinkled. “I no say; everyone _else_ say.”

Jensen shook his head. “You two are ridiculous,” he said. “I’m embarrassed to be around this serious lack of competitive asshattery. I’m going to hit the lockers.”

Rafa waved to him. “Gracias, Jensen.”

“I’ll catch you later,” Jensen called. “Thanks for the workout, man.” He headed into the players’ locker rooms, ready for a shower, a change of clothes and maybe even a bowl of strawberries and cream.

He sucked in a deep breath as he walked into the tunnel. Even here, behind the scenes where the crowds couldn’t see, there was something special about Wimbledon. It was different from any other tournament on the WTA calendar and Jensen loved everything about it. The air of old world customs bumping into the rough and tumble modern world. The attendant at the door offered him a warm towel and Jensen thanked him, heading for his assigned locker.

Jared Padalecki was already there, his crap spread out over his entire area and most of Jensen’s. 

He looked up when Jensen came in and smiled. “Hey Jenny, how’s it hanging?”

He hated being called Jen, Jenny or any other shortened variation of his name and Jared fucking knew it. He didn’t allow himself to rise to the bait, however. “To the left, Padalicky, same as always.” He looked at Jared’s shit. “How about keeping to your side of the room? It looks like your kit bag exploded and all your clothes had babies.” 

Jared stared around him. “Do we need to hang a curtain up so that we keep our things from touching?” he asked and it was his tone of voice that raised Jensen’s hackles. Nobody could piss him off faster than this pushy dickwad.

Jensen bit back the automatic cutting retort. He was really going to try to be the bigger person here, even if it killed him. “Whatever,” he muttered and turned his back on Jared, opening his locker and pulling out his bag. 

The silence behind him felt heavy and Jensen tensed.

Jared’s breath punched out in a massive sigh. “What is your problem with me, man?”

Jensen didn’t turn around. “I don’t have a problem with you,” he lied.

The laugh Jared gave was bitter. “You treat every other player on tour like they’re your best friend, but me? You act like I’m something nasty underneath your shoe.”

Jensen dropped his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he admitted, still not looking at Jared. “You just rub me the wrong way.”

Jared’s laugh was a little dirty this time. “Rub you, huh?” he asked.

Jensen could practically see those crazy kaleidoscope eyes dancing. “Asshole,” he muttered, but for the first time, there was no real intensity in the insult.

Then he felt heat pressing up against him, Jared’s hot breath in his ear as he asked, “You like fucking with me, don’t you, Jensen?” Jared drawled his name, molasses-slow and rough.

Jensen froze, every muscle locked tight as he tried to ignore the hard length of Jared’s body pushing him into the locker. “Back the fuck off, Jared,” he warned, fists clenching around his bag strap. “Don’t make assumptions about me.”

“I think you mean, ‘Get me the fuck off,’ don’t you, Jenny?” Jared’s voice was a low purr that made Jensen shudder. He told himself that it was anger that shook his body and not want. Jensen could lie to himself with the best of them.

“I said what I meant, asshole,” Jensen held still , trying to mean the insult this time, and refused to give in to the urge to push back, to feel every inch of that ridiculous body against him. “Get away from me.”

Jared’s mouth was warm and wet against the skin beneath Jensen’s ear. “Watched you on court today,” he said and it sounded like both threat and promise. “I’ve missed seeing you play. Wanted you.”

Jensen felt his cock go hard. “I'm not interested in what you want, fucker.” 

“Oh, I think you’re lying to both of us, Jenny,” Jared said, and one huge hand came around Jensen's waist, moved down and pressed against his dick. “You want this. You know you’ve always wanted this.”

Jensen hated the cocky sureness in Jared's voice. “Not you,” he said and pushed back against Jared, trying to move out of reach of his hand. “Let me go.” He felt himself getting angry but, at the same time, so goddamn aroused that his words sounded like the lie they were. 

“You think I don't see how you look at me?” Jared shoved his cock against Jensen's ass, not backing away and letting Jensen feel just how turned on he was.

“I watch you to figure out your weaknesses,” Jensen couldn't believe he was having a conversation like this with the caveman who was shoving his dick at his ass.

He didn't _want_ to want Jared, but he turned something on in Jensen that made him crazy. 

The thing is, Jensen _had_ been watching Jared. 

Watching Jared hit and fight his way to world number four in less than three years, and stay there, beating all others back with powerful serves and slicing backhands.

Watching 6’5” of pure muscle and beauty for the past year. 

Watching Jared fuck around with the pretty ball girls and the gorgeous ball boys. And several of the ATP tour players, somehow staying friends with all of them.

Watching Jared drag every player in the top fifty into his orbit and make them want him. 

Jensen was never going to be just another face in an already huge crowd.

“I have no weaknesses, except maybe you, Jensen,” Jared whispered and bit at Jensen's earlobe.

Jensen did _not_ moan and shift his head so that Jared could have better access. Then Jared's hand was inside Jensen's shorts and wrapped around his cock and Jensen couldn't breathe.

 _Hot, fast_ and _determined_ were all words used by the media to describe tennis wunderkind Jared Padalecki. Jensen really hated the fact that he was just letting this fucking upstart wreck him like this, but it had been a long time on the tour with only his right hand for company. Jared's fingers were sure and careful, despite the calluses formed by years of holding a racquet.

Jensen sucked in a breath and his head fell back against Jared’s shoulder. He wasn’t stupid. This was Jared proving a point, conquering a perceived mountain.

He came hard into Jared’s fist, moaning and turning his face into the heat of Jared’s neck. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Jared breathed and it was like an ice-bath.

Jensen wrenched away, grabbed his bag and tried to put himself back together. He knew what he looked like after sex, knew that Jared would see him like this, and hated that he’d allowed anything to happen.

He met Jared’s hungry gaze. “You think you’re so special, Padalecki.” He was grateful that his voice was relatively steady. “You spend so much time and energy trying to get everybody to like you. To want you.” Jensen curled his lip. “It’s why you’ll never be number one.”

Jared’s expression went from naked want to emotionless. “You’re a dickhead, Ackles,” he said, tone conversational but eyes dark with wrath. “You try to pretend you’re so much better than everyone else, but the reality is you’re just another pretty face with an expiration date in a sport that isn’t kind to old men.”

Jensen flinched. Jared had managed to press the bruise that lurked underneath his skin all the time. “I’m not an old man,” he said, but it sounded small and unthreatening.

Jared let his eyes roam up and down Jensen’s body. “Not yet,” he said and spun on his heel and walked away.

“Fuck,” Jensen muttered and slumped back against the lockers, bag dropping to the floor from a suddenly nerveless hand. 

The reality of Jared’s hand on his cock far exceeded any of Jensen’s fevered imaginations. Knowing how Jared felt pressed up against him was going to make things a lot more awkward in the future.

Jensen squared his shoulders. This was fucking Wimbledon. He was a fucking professional. He could keep his fucking dick in his pants.

Fuck’s sake.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_ace_

“Still think you’ve got what it takes, Ackles?” Jared taunted as they posed for the customary photo before the men’s final at Wimbledon.

“In spades,” Jensen told the gigantic shit who just grinned at him. They’d both made it to the hallowed Centre Court without dropping a set. It had come as no surprise to anyone watching them that they were the final two.

Jensen had managed to avoid Jared since their locker-room encounter weeks ago. If he used that moment to fuel his dreams, well that was his business. Looking at Jared, it seemed as though he hadn’t given it another thought. Jensen tried not to feel pissed off, but he felt his shoulders go tight with tension despite himself.

“Earth to Jensen,” Jared waggled his eyebrows at Jensen.

Jensen shook his head and glared at Jared. “Just getting in the zone,” he snapped.

Jared just laughed at him and bent down to hug the kid standing between them on court.

“Who’s going to win, Oliver?” Jared asked the boy, whose eyes were wide as he stared at them. 

Jensen smiled at Oliver. It was a Reach for A Dream Foundation wish and he hated thinking that this kid might not be alive in a couple of months. Kids and animals really got to him. 

“Jensen,” Oliver replied and a shy smile crossed his face. “’Cause he’s the best ever.” 

Jensen’s smile widened and he bent down and picked the little boy up. The crowd cheered wildly but Jensen ignored them. “I reckon with you as my mascot, I can’t lose, Ollie.”

“Ollie?” The boy’s thin arms went around Jensen’s neck. “How’d you know that’s what I’m called?” His gaze was open and earnest and so sweet that it took Jensen a moment to compose himself.

“Well, I think Oliver is a bit too fancy for a cool kid like you,” he said and squeezed the fragile little body. “Am I right?”

Ollie nodded. “I’m not cool though,” he said and his face fell.

Hey!” Jared stepped into their little bubble and tipped Ollie’s chin up so that he was looking him right in the eyes. “You’re about the coolest kid in the world right now.” He turned Ollie’s head carefully so that he could see the crowds. “Hear that cheering?” he asked.

Ollie nodded, wide-eyed.

“That’s for you, little man, ‘cause Jensen and me, we only hang out with the coolest of the cool kids.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “I mean, we’re pretty cool ourselves, right?”

Ollie looked between Jared and Jensen for a moment and then nodded again. “The coolest in the world,” he said.

“See,” Jensen said. “The coolest guys in the world don’t hang out with not-cool people.” He smiled at Jared who smiled back. His opponent looked as devastated as Jensen felt. 

Ollie’s skinny arms tightened around Jensen’s neck and his face was pressed into Jensen’s shoulder. “I wish I could be a tennis player and play at Wimbledon like you, Jensen.” The whisper was barely audible and Jensen felt his eyes burning.

He looked at Jared again. A moment of strange telepathy happened between them. Jared nodded without a word, and trotted over to the chair umpire and the manager of the center. He spoke quickly, his hands flying in the air and Jensen just stood in the middle of Wimbledon’s Centre Court with a sick little boy in his arms and prayed they could grant him one more wish. 

Jensen won his last Grand Slam that day, toppling Jared from the number one position in the rankings. 

However, the abiding image carried by media around the world was of Jared and Jensen carefully hitting balls back and forth and a tiny boy scrambling around Wimbledon’s Centre Court with a racquet almost the same size as he was, face lit up and mouth wide with smiles as he fulfilled a life-long dream.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/7B809D3D-6A3D-4B4F-9F62-6DDBAA7DE621-8321-000009846A37F925.jpg.html)

****

_lob_

  
_bet-at-home Open, Hamburg, Germany_  


Jensen watched Jared closely. He was learning the giant’s tells and this serve was going right down the middle of the line. He felt every muscle in his body tense as he prepared to return.

Fucking hell, but the guy could hit the ball.

Jensen barely managed to get his racquet to it, lunging to the right and hitting it back hard enough to drop over the net.

Jared was already there, his serve and volley game well suited to the Halle surface, sliding to where Jensen’s shot had landed and sending a short volley cross-court that had Jensen scrambling.

He missed it by inches and glared his annoyance at Jared who sent him a sunny smile. 

Jensen felt his mouth curving upwards in a small responding smile. He was still not sure that he liked the asshole but Jared was not the sort of guy who was willing to sit back and let things happen in their own time.

Since Wimbledon, Jared had kept up a steady stream of phone-calls (thanks for nothing Kane), emails (Steve would pay for giving that out) and text messages. Jensen had yet to respond to one of them but he was unwillingly charmed.

Jared was like a rash — persistent and not easy to get rid of, a constant itch that needed to be scratched.

Jensen did _not_ want to scratch.

“Forty-thirty,” the umpire droned and Jensen forced himself to concentrate. It was match point and he wasn’t going to hand this to Padalecki.

Jared arched an eyebrow as he set up the next serve. Jensen was almost sure he could spot this tell. Jared was going to serve to the far side of the court and make Jensen scramble back if he was caught out of position.

He narrowed his eyes and watched as Jared leaned back and then he got distracted with the endless line of Jared’s body as he stretched up and forward and the ball blew past him, down the middle, and it was game, set and championship.

Jensen stood for a moment in utter disbelief as the crowd applauded Jared’s win. By the time he shook himself into moving again, Jared was waiting at the net with a concerned expression on his face.

“You okay, man?” he asked as they shook hands.

“Congratulations,” Jensen said, the words feeling like dust in his mouth. He’d handed this to Jared with barely any resistance and it pissed him off.

“You look like you just swallowed a bunch of lemons,” Jared said and Jensen could see the barely restrained grin.

“Asshole,” he muttered and reached up to shake the chair umpire’s hand.

He gritted his teeth through the prize presentation and managed to say a few semi-complimentary words about Jared.

And then Jared took the trophy and stared at it as though it was something precious.

“I…” he said and looked over to Jensen. “I can’t believe I beat you, man,” he said and it was so genuine, so heartfelt that Jensen wanted to snarl at him in helpless fury. This wasn’t what he needed right now. Looking at this upstart, this kid who had exploded into his life, forced his way past Jensen’s barriers with no care for his objections. This ridiculous, obnoxious boy who had broken down every defense Jensen had ever built up.

Jensen tried to smile at Jared. He really did. But it felt completely wrong on his face, fake and insincere. He just dropped his gaze so that Jared could continue thanking the people that he surrounded himself with.

“This is the one of the most special titles of my career,” Jared said and Jensen willed himself not to stare. “I didn’t just win an ATP title, I beat one of the best players in the history of the game.” 

Jensen looked up at Jared then and met his gaze. It was like staring into a universe of stars. He lost himself in Jared’s eyes and didn’t hear another word of his speech.

It was only later, when Jared was pressing him down into the mattress of his hotel room that Jensen realized he’d possibly lost control of the situation.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_crosscourt volley_

  
_Coupe Rogers, Montreal, Canada_  


Jared lunged to the right as Jensen’s volley went left.

“Game, set and match: Ackles,” the chair umpire droned as Jensen dropped to the court, utterly exhausted.

Three sets, the first two being tie-breaks that had brought them both to the brink of exhaustion, and Jensen had managed to pull out the win.

He shook Jared’s hand at the net and stopped when Jared didn’t let him go. 

“What?” he asked and went for belligerent but it sounded mostly like exhaustion.

“This?” Jared pointed between them. “It’s not casual anymore and I’m not going to share.”

Jensen stared at him as the preparations for the presentation ceremony continued around them. “You’re fucking insane,” he told Jared.

“Yeah,” Jared nodded. “And it’s likely that it’s you that’s driven me here.” 

Jensen tugged his hand away and walked to the chair umpire, shaking his hand and trying to ignore the seriously large presence at his back.

The presentation ceremony was thankfully short and Jensen managed to thank the people who counted. 

The locker room was quiet when he stepped beneath the shower. 

He sucked in a breath as he heard the door lock snick shut behind him.

“Tell me that you don’t want this and I swear, this is it.” Jared’s voice was low and serious. Jensen turned to look at him, water streaming down and masking the sounds of the world outside.

“You wouldn’t call me or text me or send me emails or flowers or shit ever again?” Jensen asked over the noise of the shower.

“I feel like I’m a dick in a storm,” Jared told him. “Convenient, easy, forgettable.”

Jensen made a scoffing sound. “There is _nothing_ easy about you, JT,” he said.

Jared wasn’t smiling as he replied. “Only easy when it comes to you, Jen.”

Jensen waited for the panic to set in, the fear that the world would know, would point and reject him if he decided to make this ’thing’ with Jared more than what it had been.

But he didn’t freak out, apart from the sudden worry that Jared was going to give up on him. On them.

“Okay,” Jensen said. He swiped at the hot water on his face, dripping in his eyes. 

Jared stared at him. “Okay what?” he asked, hesitant and unsure. Jensen hadn’t seen this side of him yet.

“Okay, I want this,” Jensen said and tried to smile. He felt as though he’d just taken a step off the Empire State Building and was free-falling to the streets below.

And then Jared caught him, arms tight around him and mouth hard and hot on his. Jensen’s hands went up and dug into Jared’s hair, held on and hauled him closer.

It didn’t matter that Jensen was naked and Jared was still in his gear. All that mattered was that for the first time in what felt like forever, Jensen felt like he was in the right place. 

Jared’s lips were demanding and pressed Jensen’s open, Jared’s knee pushing Jensen’s legs apart. Despite having just beaten Jared on court, Jensen let Jared move him how he wanted. In this, Jensen was prepared to follow.

Jared hitched Jensen’s leg up over his hip and then pushed hard, tilting his pelvis up so that his cock ground up into the arc of Jensen’s ass. Jensen tightened his thigh around Jared’s waist, disconcerted for a moment at being the short person in an embrace.

“I’m not going to let you fuck me around anymore,” Jared muttered against his lips, fingers digging into the muscles of Jensen’s ass.

“I’ll try not to fuck you around,” Jensen gasped, throwing his head back as Jared’s fingers pressed against his hole. “Not ready,” he said.

“Not going to fuck you,” Jared said and his eyes were dark and determined. “Yet.”

Jensen came hard over the pristine white of Jared’s now soaked shirt. He tried to feel a little shame but the tenderness that Jared showed as he toweled him down and helped him dress made him care less.

That night, in Jared’s hotel room, fucked out and loose-limbed, Jared murmured into his ear, “I’m kind of obsessed with you, Jen.”

Jensen’s hand stopped its idle stroking down the smooth skin of Jared’s back. “Obsessed?” he asked, not sure if he should be amused or call the cops.

“Yeah,” Jared said and lifted his head to stare at him. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you play. I was fourteen and just starting on the junior circuit. You were nineteen and the Wimbledon Junior champion.”

“I played Roger,” Jensen said, remembering his first Wimbledon, being put in his place by the Maestro.

“You took him to four sets,” Jared said. “And the entire world sat up and took notice.” His hand moved down, cupped Jensen’s ass and he lifted his hips to rut up against him. “You were fucking unreal. I wanted to be you, wasn’t sure why just looking at you made my dick hard. You fucked with my head even though you didn’t have a goddam clue that I was alive.”

Jensen smirked down at him, tilting his hips in a little swivel that made Jared’s eyes cross. “I noticed you,” he said. “the moment you walked onto the court at Roland Garros, arrogant little shit all full of piss and vinegar, and clawed your way to a five setter against Rafa.”

Jared grinned and licked a slow line up the length of Jensen’s throat. “So Roger and Rafa were the making of us?” he mused. “Wonder if I should have tried to fuck Rafa?”

Jensen barely controlled his urge to snarl. “Roger would kick your ass,” he said and bit into the meat of Jared’s shoulder, almost hard enough to break skin.

“You’re a fucking jealous bitch,” Jared swore, twitching away from the pain of Jensen’s teeth.

“I don’t share well,” Jensen said and met Jared’s eyes. 

“I don’t share at all,” Jared said and just stared back.

“Okay,” Jensen said and the corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin. The months of phone calls, text messages and emails had been leading up to this moment. Jared had been courting him and he’d been too stupid to see it.

“Okay what?” Jared asked warily, an echo of their earlier conversation. 

“So you’re mine then,” Jensen declared and waited, suddenly feeling like this might be the most important conversation of his life. 

Jensen thought he may have just stepped off the ledge into free-fall.

Jared watched him for a moment and then he smiled up at Jensen. “Fucking right,” he said and rolled up and over, tucking Jensen beneath him and sliding back inside him in almost one smooth motion.

Jensen couldn’t breathe, so full and fucked out and fucked up as Jared pushed into him in hard, slow jerks of his hips. “JT, fuck, I…”

“Mine,” Jared told him, and Jensen held on as Jared laid claim to every inch of his body.

Not refuting a word.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/DF5C38A7-105D-43E4-B9CF-37B9CE3556CF-8321-000009847585654F.jpg.html)

****

_double fault_

  
_US Open, Flushing Meadow, USA_  


Jensen threw himself to the left, arm stretched out as far as possible, trying to get the ball. He knew he wasn’t going to get there in time.

It flew just past his racquet and bounced into the far corner of the court. Jensen hit the ground hard and heard the snap of his knee before the pain reached his brain.

“Oh, fuck!” he screamed and curled into a ball, pulling his knee to his chest protectively. The sheer agony made his vision spark and he cried out again.

Jared launched himself over the net, running towards him and yelling, “Jensen! Jen! Shit, are you okay?”

The crowd had gone whisper-silent and there were a few audible gasps as Jensen writhed in agony on the ground. He knew he was fucked. 

Jared crouched down next to him, hands on Jensen’s and face terrified. “Jensen, what the hell happened?” 

Jensen grabbed for one of Jared’s hands. “Knee, blown,” he gasped and then groaned as another sharp stab of pain coursed through his body. He thought he might be crushing Jared’s hand and tried to let go, but Jared’s strong fingers curled around his.

“Kane’s coming, he’s called the medical staff,” Jared told him, voice hoarse. “You just hold on to me, okay, babe?”

Jensen managed a nod and then Kane was there. Finally the tournament physician arrived, and everything became very hazy. 

Jensen was totally fine with hazy. It meant that the pain went away for a while. 

He was vaguely aware of being carried off the court on a stretcher, Jared’s hand holding onto his the entire time. There was a brief argument when Kane wanted Jared to get out of the ambulance and Jared told Kane to fuck off or get in, but he wasn’t moving.

Jared won the verbal and mental battle, and Jensen clung to his hand, desperately grateful for his solid presence.

The siren started up and an EMT loomed over Jensen as the ambulance started moving. “Mr. Ackles, Jensen, I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay?”

It hurt Jensen to move but he nodded and felt a slight sting as a needle slid into his arm. Then there was only the blessed relief of unconsciousness.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_foot fault_

“Can you not be a complete dick about it?” Jared asked Jensen as he wheeled him out of the hospital.

Jensen gritted his teeth as the wheelchair hit a bump. “Be careful, will you?” he said as pain radiated up his leg.

“Sorry.” The automatic doors slid open to find Kane waiting at the curb in his SUV.

“Jenny!” Kane called. “Move your ass, the paps are only about a minute behind me!”

Jared sped up and Jensen felt every muscle tense. He was not in the right frame of mind to deal with any member of the media at the moment. He just wanted to get home and pray that once he was in his bed he would wake up and find that this was all just a god-awful nightmare.

“How’d they find out?” he asked as he reached the passenger door and stood up out of the chair without using his crutches. His knee howled in protest but Jared was next to him in an instant, arm around his waist before Jensen could put too much pressure on the heavily bandaged leg.

“The moose here isn’t exactly the most invisible person, you know?” Kane nodded to Jared who flinched. “Not meaning anything by that, Padalecki, but you kinda stick out like a sore thumb.”

Jared nodded and waited for Kane to slide the seat back as far as possible. “I still think you should stretch out in the back…” Jared began.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen growled and hauled himself into the car. He hissed in agony as he bumped his knee on the door. “Not one more word,” he warned them both.

Kane muttered that Jensen do something anatomically impossible under his breath, and headed for the driver’s side. Jared stood back and looked at Jensen. “I’ll come over later?” 

Jensen shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said and tried not to see the immediate wounded expression on Jared’s face. “I’m going to take my Vicodin as soon as I get home and probably won’t be useful for much.”

Jared puffed out a breath and eventually nodded. “Okay, then I’ll call you tomorrow and we can make a plan.” He stepped forward and bent down to kiss Jensen goodbye. Jensen pulled back before he could stop himself. “What the fuck, Jen?” Jared’s eyes went stormy green and Jensen held up a hand.

“Sorry,” he said. “But we’re in public and I just…” He knew he was being a shit to Jared, but he couldn’t deal with anyone else’s issues right now. His own were pretty overwhelming. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, alright, JT?”

Jared nodded slowly and stepped back again to avoid being hit by the closing door. Kane peeled away from the curb and Jensen tried not to look in the side mirror. Jared’s tall figure got gradually smaller in the distance and Jensen closed his eyes, dropping his head back on the car seat.

“You’re a real piece of work, Jensen,” Kane noted.

Jensen stiffened. “Not now, Chris.” He wasn’t in the mood for this.

“No seriously, you are the prize bitch in this scenario, you know?” Kane was talking almost conversationally. “The kid has been at the hospital every day since the accident. He’s helped you with your rehab, put up with the ridiculous amount of shit you’ve thrown at him, and he still keeps coming back.”

Jensen’s jaw ached from holding back the words that might just break his longest standing friendship for good. “Enough,” he told Kane.

But Kane never stopped. “I bet Jared never knew that he would end up involved with a guy that is higher maintenance than ten women combined and a complete bastard to boot.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Jensen said, shaking.

“No,” Kane told him and he glanced at Jensen. “You know that you’re only moving as well as you are right now because of Jared.”

“I owe the surgeon who put me back together,” Jensen said.

“If Jared hadn’t kicked your ass out of bed every day, you’d still be lying there right now.” Kane’s eyes were hard.

Kane was right and Jensen hated it. “I would have been okay,” he insisted.

“You’d be on crutches permanently and not have a hope in hell of ever picking up a racquet again.” Kane was ruthless. “Asshole.”

“I’m done talking,” Jensen told him. His knee hurt like a bitch and his conscience hurt even more.

Kane shrugged. “That’s okay, I’m not.”

Jensen made a small sound and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound of Kane’s words. He wasn’t ready to deal with Jared right now. His focus had to be in getting his knee back in shape as quickly as possible. 

The thought of not being able to play tennis again made his blood turn to ice. Failure was _not_ an option.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/4E1EC747-E51F-436F-AC84-45CB4F98E0FB-8321-000009847A7B9AB4.jpg.html)

****

_volley_

“So I’m here to officially announce my retirement from the ATP circuit,” Jensen’s throat was dry and he picked up the glass of water next to him and took a sip. The rehab had not progressed as quickly or as well as everyone had hoped. The words made Jensen feel light-headed.

He cleared his throat and looked back down at his notes. “I’d like to thank the President of the ATP and the many people who, behind the scenes, run the Men’s Tour with such efficiency.” He wasn’t sure where he was going from here, but it wasn’t back onto the tour. His professional career as a singles player was done.

He looked over to where Roger and Rafa were standing, faces solemn. “I’d like to extend my thanks for the support and concern of all my friends on the tour, especially Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.” He smiled at them. “Maybe we’ll meet up on the senior’s tour one day.” The smattering of laughter around the room made him relax a little.

“I have my own team to thank, starting with Chris Kane and Steve Carlson, manager, coach, friends for life.” He shared a grateful smile with Kane and took a breath. “Jared Padalecki has been the best friend a guy could ever hope for and I’ll owe him forever for his help and persistence in getting me mobile again.” 

Their relationship wasn’t a secret to anyone on the tour but Jensen still wasn’t comfortable with shouting out his personal business to the rest of the world. He wanted to keep Jared, and what he meant to him, private.

“My knee is shot to shit,” he told the press. “It’s been six months of rehab and I’m still using a cane.” He shook his head. “I’d rather retire on my own terms than try to make a comeback sometime in the future and be sitting at number nowhere in the world rankings.”

He looked around and met Jared’s serious gaze. “I honestly doubt I’ll ever play professional tennis again but if I do, then you guys will be the first to know.” He stepped back. “Thank you.”

The applause was gratifyingly loud as Jensen headed towards Kane and Steve. Jared was next to him in a flash, hand on his arm. “Jen, can we talk?”

Jensen shook his head. “Not now, okay?” He met Jared’s gaze and flinched at the mixture of hurt and confusion. “I can’t deal with anything more today, JT.” He felt raw, flayed open and exposed to the world.

Jared’s eyes softened. “I’ll see you later?” Jensen knew that he’d been putting this off for too long. Jared didn’t deserve the crap he’d been giving him. Jensen needed to clear the air once and for all. He hated the thought of groveling but he’d been an asshole to Jared, repeatedly, and he owed him a real explanation.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, come over to my place around eight.” Jared’s fingers squeezed his arm briefly and then he was gone.

Kane watched him limp over. “You look like shit,” he said.

“That’s because I pretty much feel like shit, Kane. Thank you for that brilliant observation.” Jensen’s tone was a little sharper than he’d intended.

“You doing alright, Jenny?” Kane asked.

Jensen’s mouth was tight. “No,” he said and that was all he needed to say. In a couple of minutes, Kane and Steve had managed to smuggle him out of a side door that had magically appeared. 

“Your boy looked a little bummed, Jen,” Steve said and Jensen shook his head.

“He wants more from me than I have to give right now.” He climbed into the town car and leaned back in relief, lifting his leg to rest on the opposite seat. “At the moment, I can only deal with my shit. His will have to wait.”

Kane looked at him steadily. “You’re being a dick,” he told Jensen.

“Fuck’s sake, Kane, what the hell do you expect?” Jensen exploded. “I’m in fucking rehab every second day with my knee and in pain twenty-four seven and I seriously don’t have the fucking energy to handle a clingy boyfriend!” He was almost breathless when he finished and closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

Kane’s silence was loaded and Jensen waited. He wasn’t disappointed. “You’re a dipshit and don’t deserve any of your friends.” Kane’s voice was flat and it told Jensen just how pissed off he was.

“Kane,” Jensen said, opening his eyes and looking at Kane. “Please, stop pushing me. I don’t want to say anything I know I’m going to regret.”

“I’ve got nothing more to say to you right now anyway, man.” Kane shook his head. “Jared has been there for you every step of the way and you just keep stepping on him like he’s shit under your shoe.”

Steve put a hand on Kane’s arm. “Cool it, Chris,” he said but Kane shook him off.

“No,” Kane said. “I’ve about had enough of this little pity party that’s been going on since you fucked up your knee.” He pointed a finger at Jensen, “You’re not the only one who was affected by what happened to you.”

“I know that,” Jensen tried again.

“You really don’t,” Kane said. “I lost money, Jensen, a lot of money, on the companies that cancelled your endorsement deals with you.”

“What part of ‘my career is in the fucking toilet’ are you not getting, Kane?” Jensen spat. He was feeling guilty and angry and so mad at everything that he wanted to punch something. Right now the something was Kane’s annoying face. “You’re supposed to be my friend and all you fucking care about is the money you’re losing!”

“The doctors have told you that you’ll be able to play again, you fucking drama queen,” Kane was shouting back now. “You just have to actually work your knee and be fucking patient and everything will actually fucking work out!”

“Can you say ‘fucking’ more, you two?” Steve asked quietly and they both stared at him.

Jensen started laughing and dropped his head back on the seat again. “God, I’m sorry, you guys. I know that I’ve been a complete dick to you both and I swear I’ll start trying to sort myself out.”

“You need to apologize to Jared first,” Steve said softly. “He’s taken the most of your crap.”

Jensen felt a hard knot of shame twist in his gut. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Humble pie taste like ass.”

Kane snorted. “You need to kiss a little ass, right now, man.”

Jensen made a face. “Don’t have to like it,” he muttered and dialed Jared.

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared answered after a couple of rings, voice a little wary.

“I’ve just had my ass handed to me by some nosy friends who think I’ve been acting like an asshole to you,” Jensen said.

Jared’s small laugh warmed that tight knot inside and Jensen relaxed. “You’ve not been the easiest person to be around,” Jared admitted. “But I sort of like you a lot so I’ve put up with it.”

“JT, man,” Jensen felt lower than a worm. “I’m so sorry.”

He could hear the shrug in Jared’s voice. “Nobody forced me to stay.”

Jensen was kind of glad that he had. “I’ll see you later?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jared agreed. “Around eight?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said and smiled. 

“Your face,” Kane said with a frown once he’d ended the call.

“What’s wrong with my face?” Jensen asked. Shit, that was all he needed.

“There’s something wrong with it,” Kane’s eyes were worried. “I don’t know, maybe Carlson can figure it out.”

Jensen looked at Steve who was rolling his eyes. “Kane, I swear you’re a bigger dick than Ackles.”

“I _have_ a bigger dick,” Kane nodded. “You speak the truth, young grasshopper.”

“What the fuck is wrong with my face?” Jensen demanded.

“I dunno man,” Kane shook his head. “Maybe we should call a doctor. Your mouth looks weird.”

“My mo…” Jensen broke off his word and glared at Kane. “You are an asshole,” he stated.

Kane slapped his knee and howled with laughter. “Your face,” he gasped. “Careful it doesn’t break with all that smiling. It’s not used to moving that way anymore.” Jensen kicked him with his good leg.

“I’m trading you in for some real friends,” Jensen told them and settled back in his seat.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_second serve_

“Dude, you just have to try!” Jared stood on the other side of the court and stared at Jensen. “Your knee will be fine. The doc gave you the all clear.”

“I don’t feel like it’s fine,” Jensen hated that he sounded like he was a whining kid.

“I’ll hit the ball softly,” Jared promised.

Jensen scowled at him. “Not the fucking point, JT.”

“You’re not going to know until you try,” Jared prodded. 

“Stop telling me what to do!” Jensen yelled and Jared took a step back.

“Whoa,” Jared said and held up his hands. “Way to be an asshole, Jen.” His eyes were flat. “I don’t need this from you right now.”

Jensen’s shoulders went tight. “I’ve spent the last year having people pushing me and ordering me around and all the while telling me that it’s for my own fucking good.” He knew that he was being unfair. “I’d appreciate it if my boyfriend wasn’t one of them.”

“Oh fuck you,” Jared told him and he stalked off the court. He turned at the gate. “I’m sick of being your punching bag, man. When you’ve decided whether you want a boyfriend or not, give me a call.”

“You don’t understand how fucking hard this is, JT.” There was a brief moment of panic as Jensen worried whether Jared was going to walk off for good this time. “It feels like I’ve got lead in my feet and I can’t fucking move.”

“Get the fuck over yourself,” Jared told him, not moving back towards Jensen. “I get that you’ve been in pain and that it’s been hard not being able to play.” He shook his head. “You’ve been given the go-ahead to play again and all you do is bitch about how hard everything is.”

“Nice attitude for a boyfriend,” Jensen sneered.

“Right back at you, asshole,” Jared spat.

Jensen watched him leave without saying a word.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/D6182FE3-47B0-4D71-8079-574948A9B14C-8321-000009847F6A5972.jpg.html)

****

_slice_

“I wish you would stop fighting the therapy and just work with me, Jensen,” Misha sounded exasperated.

Jensen couldn’t complain about the physiotherapist that had been assigned to him. Misha was a cheerful, if slightly weird guy, who pushed him just far enough that he didn’t cross the line. 

“I’m doing all the exercises,” Jensen protested. “I don’t know why you think I’m fighting it.”

Misha motioned to a chair and Jensen sank gratefully into it. His knee ached like a bitch and he reached down to rub it. The action had become like a security blanket for him, a way of reassuring himself that he was still mobile, still had a working limb.

“Remember when we started the physio?” Misha asked instead and Jensen nodded. It had been just after one of his and Jared’s more spectacular arguments where Jared had called him a coward and Jensen had called Jared a bully.

“Of course,” Jensen said. “The best day of my life.”

Misha snorted. “I told you that you would have to give me more than one hundred percent, remember?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said. He shifted in the chair. “But I’m doing everything you ask me to, man.”

“And that’s _all_ you do,” Misha said. His eyes were intent on Jensen. “Physiotherapy isn’t only healing the body, Jensen.”

Jensen felt even more uncomfortable. “You know I don’t go for all that woo-woo crap, Misha.”

“It’s not woo-woo and it’s not crap,” Misha glared at him. “Meditation is very good for the mental and emotional stability of a person.”

Jensen scowled. “If I empty my fucking mind then everything will fall out,” he said.

Misha looked like he wanted to laugh but he persisted. “You have to try and let your body heal from within.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Jensen told him.

“The mind is part of the healing process.” Misha’s hands waved animatedly. “Your body can only do so much. You have to let your mind do the rest.”

Jensen stared at him. “So much bullshit,” he said eventually.

Misha shook his head. “I swear, you let me give you a couple of sessions of yoga and you won’t believe the difference it makes.”

“Dude, I can barely bend my leg,” Jensen pointed at his knee. “How the fuck am I supposed to do Backwards Floating Buffalo with this piece of crap on my leg?”

“Backwards Floating…” Misha stared at him. “What the fuck is wrong with your brain?” he asked.

“Well, it sure isn’t doing my leg any good,” Jensen told him.

Misha rolled his eyes. “Can you just give it a try?” he asked instead, opting not to engage Jensen’s attitude any more.

“Fine,” Jensen stood. “What do you want me to do?”

Misha stood up too and led Jensen to some mats in one corner of the physio room. “Sit there, stretch your entire body out on one of the mats and close your eyes,” he instructed.

Jensen obeyed and it felt good just to lie down and let his body relax. “No molesting the patient while meditating,” he warned.

“Please,” Misha scoffed. “You don’t have nearly enough estrogen for my tastes.”

“You’re straight?” Jensen’s eyes popped open. “I was sure…” he trailed off when he saw Misha’s face. “Uh…”

“I know you have a bet with Kane and Jared,” Misha told him and Jensen had the grace to blush. “I’m straight.”

“Sorry about that,” Jensen muttered.

“So who won?” Misha asked as he knelt next to Jensen.

“Fucking Kane,” Jensen said. “How the fuck did he know?”

“It’s fairly easy for us raging heterosexuals to spot each other,” Misha said.

The sound Jensen made was skeptical. “Raging hetero, huh?” he asked, sliding his eyes closed again.

“No interest in dick at all,” Misha admitted and Jensen snorted a laugh. “Now, stop talking and focus on the sound of my voice.”

Jensen obeyed and allowed the rise and fall of Misha’s voice to take his mind off the clusterfuck that his life had become.

When Jared came to get him an hour later, Jensen was loose, relaxed and hopeful for the first time since that horrible moment in Arthur Ashe Stadium.

Misha helped him to stand, holding on to him for a moment longer than necessary as he steadied him. He whispered into Jensen’s ear, “You’ve been shutting out the people who care about you. Let them back in.” Misha stepped back and smiled to remove any sting from the words.

Jensen gave a tight smile. “I’ll try,” he promised. 

“That’s all I ask of you,” Misha said. He turned to smile at Jared. “Be gentle with him today, will you? He’s had a tough session.”

Jared’s gaze flitted between Jensen and Misha. Jensen knew where the speculation was taking Jared but he was just too fucking tired and sore to care. “Can we go now, please JT?” he asked.

Jared looked like he wanted to say something but settled on silence. 

“I’ll see you in three days,” Misha told Jensen. “Keep doing those exercises.”

Jensen nodded and picked up his cane. It was mostly for show now. His knee could hold up under the pressure of a solid workout. Misha’s theory was that the cane was his security blanket. Jensen didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t ready to give it up completely just yet.

He followed Jared out to the car, glad to be done for the next couple of days.

“So you and Misha seem to be pretty chummy now,” Jared noted as he headed home. His voice was bland.

Jensen glanced over at him. “You’re jealous of Misha?” he asked. It had never occurred to him that Jared would be insecure about them. Jensen had been a dick much of the past year but he was nuts about Jared. Maybe he’d been so up his own ass that he’d not shown Jared how much he meant to him. That was on him.

Jared kept his eyes on the road. “We never really established…” he began.

“Misha is straight,” Jensen interrupted him. “And I’m pretty fucking insulted that you think I’d be _that_ guy.”

“That guy?” Jared glanced at him.

“The clichéd asshole that falls for the charms of his coach slash therapist slash tutor,” Jensen said.

Jared flushed. “I didn’t think you were falling for him,” he muttered.

“Straight!” Jensen repeated.

Jared slumped in his seat. “Fucking Kane wins the fucking pot,” he said.

“I know,” Jensen said and sighed. “JT, I love you; I don’t want to be with anyone else.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know right now it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m crazy about you and you’re the only guy I want in my life.” He leaned forward, trying to catch Jared’s eyes. “Okay?” He put a hand on Jared’s thigh, felt the tense muscle there and felt remorse that he’d been responsible for any of it. “Okay?” he repeated.

Jared put his hand on Jensen’s. “Okay,” he said softly and they drove the rest of the way in a silence that didn’t hang heavy with dread.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_backhand_

  
_Melbourne Park, Australia_  


Jensen knew his knee needed more work. He knew he wasn’t ready for this, but he was so fucking tired of sitting courtside and watching Jared play.

He’d agreed to the exhibition match over the protests of Misha, Kane and Jared. “I don’t give a fuck what you say!” He’d been high on pain-killers and furious with the world. “I’m going to play against Roger. It’s for charity and Ollie wants to see me play and that’s the last time I’m going to fucking talk about this!”

Standing across from Roger now, he felt his knee throbbing in pain. They’d played a fast first set and Jensen had been feeling good. But on the second game of the second set, he’d hit a smooth patch on the court and skidded into the barrier.

The crowd had made a collective gasp as his knee had buckled under him and he’d dropped to the ground with a hiss of pain. Jared had reached him before anyone else, and his face had been pale with fear.

“Jen! Fuck! Are you okay?” Jensen had tried to stand, using Jared’s strong arm as a crutch but he’d needed a medical time-out before he’d felt anywhere near capable of continuing.

Now he could see Roger’s worried face across the net and he knew he probably looked like shit. He nodded to Fed and the serve came blistering towards him at a speed that Jensen knew he wasn’t going to be able to return. He stretched out to get the ball anyway, and almost howled as his knee was jarred on the hard surface.

“Fifteen, love,” the umpire called and Jensen limped to the other side of the court. 

Roger shook his head and headed for the net. Jensen gritted his teeth and walked over to meet him.

Roger’s eyes were very grave. “Jensen, this game, it’s not good for your knee.” 

“I’m fine,” Jensen said.

“You are not fine,” Roger insisted. “You look like something my dog puked up.”

“I’m just a little stiff,” Jensen said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played for this long.”

“It’s okay if we stop,” Roger said. “It’s not for points. The charity got its money and the kids have had their show.” He looked over towards the grandstand where the group of kids from the local Children’s hospital was sitting.

Jensen felt his face go hot. “I promised I’d do this, Rog. Ollie is watching back home. I _will_ fucking do this!” He spoke the words with a clenched jaw.

Roger shook his head. “You are stubborn, Jen. This is a bad idea.” But he went back to his mark on the service line, waiting for Jensen to get to his spot.

The next serve was right at his body. Jensen swore under his breath. It looked like Fed was going to _show_ him that he couldn’t handle the game right now. He barely managed to return it but it hit the net cord and dropped on Jensen’s side of the court.

“Thirty, love.” Jensen hated his body at the moment. It was breaking apart as the world watched.

He moved to the left side of the court and flinched as the next serve blew past him. He didn’t even bother to move.

“Forty, love.”

Jensen felt his knee locking up and he wanted to scream in frustration. He didn’t dare look over to his box. He knew that Jared was going to have his ass for being this fucking stubborn.

He waited for the serve and could see almost from the moment that Fed started his movement that he was hitting a soft one. It made him furious. He felt like some kind of lame-ass poor relative that needed taking care of.

He forced himself to lunge for the serve, connecting with top spin and sent it back to Roger with interest. Fed moved behind the shot and lobbed it high and over Jensen’s head. He took a couple of steps back, planning on hitting a slam and his knee just fucked out on him.

He was on the ground, fighting back the agonized screams that wanted to rip out of his throat a second later. He opened his eyes and looked over at the children. He saw that most of them were up and out of their seats, some of the girls with their hands over their mouths in fear. He clenched his jaw and prayed for the waves of pain to subside.

Jared stayed back this time. Kane and Misha reached him first and between them managed to get him off the court and onto his chair. Jensen could feel tears streaming down his face. He kept his head down, not wanting the kids to see him like this.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kane muttered as Misha started unwrapping the bandage.

“Does Mr. Ackles need a medical time out?” The umpire leaned down to them. Roger was hovering behind them, face worried and pale.

“Mr. Ackles needs a fucking brain transplant to ensure that he doesn’t to behave like a fucking moron again,” Kane said.

The chair umpire stared at him. “No,” Kane said with his mouth sent in anger. “Mr. Ackles is retiring from the match.”

“No,” Jensen gasped and he knew he was being an unreasonable asshole, but he couldn’t bear the thought of going off a court like this. 

Not again. 

“Shut the fuck up, you dick.” Kane’s eyes were narrow and he had his _do not fuck with me_ face on.

“You can’t walk, let alone play the rest of the match,” Misha told him, gently palpating Jensen’s knee. It hurt like a motherfucker. Jensen knew it meant another long stint of physio.

“I can’t just quit,” Jensen said and he wasn’t sure if he was crying because of the pain or because of the shithole his life had become.

“You didn’t,” Kane said. “I quit for you.” Jensen met his gaze and knew that his friend wasn’t going to budge.

“Jen,” Jared’s voice was so quiet that Jensen barely heard him. He hadn’t even been aware of Jared arriving. “Please. Just stop.” He sounded young and sad and a little bit broken.

Jensen refused to feel guilty. “It’s _my_ life that’s fucking over, you all don’t get to tell me what to do!” He wasn’t even certain who he was actually yelling at now. Kane, Jared, Misha, the entire fucking world was conspiring to make him a washed-up has-been.

“When you start acting like a responsible adult, then maybe we can let you make actual life decisions,” Kane spat at him.

“Fuck you!” Jensen shouted, hitting out with a closed fist. Misha tumbled back, blood streaming from his noise, eyes wide with shock.

“You fucking selfish asshole!” Kane shouted back, so inured to Jensen’s bad behavior over the past few months that he didn’t even hesitate. He slapped Jensen across the face, hard and sharp. The sound was like a gunshot. It echoed around the now-silent stadium.

Jared just stared at Jensen, face white, eyes horrified. He stumbled back into Roger, who put a reassuring hand on his arm. 

“Who the hell are you?” Jared hissed. “You’re someone I don’t know, and sure as shit I don’t _want_ to know the you that you’ve become.”

Jensen’s cheek throbbed in time with the throbbing in his knee. He was exhausted and angry and so completely ashamed of himself that he just wanted to find a gun and put himself out of everyone else’s misery.

“Can I just get the fuck out of here?” He must have sounded as shattered as he felt because Kane heaved him to his feet without another word, slipping his arm around Jensen’s waist and taking much of the weight off his knee.

“Mr. Ackles is forfeiting the match,” Kane growled and started off the court.

Jensen only realized that Jared and Misha weren’t with them when Kane lowered him to the bench in the locker rooms. “JT?” he looked around but Jared wasn’t there.

Roger came into the locker room then, eyes dark with concern. “You okay, Jen?” he asked.

Jensen shook his head. “Man, I’m sorry, Rog, I’m a dick. I should have quit the minute my knee started giving me shit.”

Roger nodded. “I shouldn’t have carried on with the match,” he said. His face was still troubled. “Jensen, this anger, you hit someone out there.”

Jensen put his face in his hands. “God, Misha.” He groaned. “Where is he? I need to apologize.”

Roger still watched Jensen as though he was a bomb about to explode and it made Jensen sick to think that he’d put that expression on his friend’s face. “Jared took him to the emergency room,” Roger said. “I don’t think his nose is broken but it is better to make sure, yes?”

Jensen couldn’t have felt any worse. “Fuck,” he breathed.

“We need to get you checked out,” Kane said. “Make sure you haven’t fucked the knee up even more.” He was still pissed off but seemed calmer now, less obviously inclined to knock Jensen out and force him to accept medical attention.

“Misha,” Jensen protested.

“Later,” Kane insisted. And because it was easier to deal with his messed-up knee than make a sincere apology to a friend, Jensen listened.

Jensen spent a few days in the hospital and when Jared still didn’t come, Jensen thought that maybe he wasn’t coming at all. The sympathetic looks Steve and Roger sent his way were almost as unbearable as the “I told you so” speech that Kane gave him.

Jared’s things were gone when Jensen got home from the hospital and Jensen felt like he’d been scraped raw from the inside out. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt like a bitch. He was pissed at Jared for giving up on them and mad at himself because it was completely his own fucking fault.

“He said he’s coming back,” Kane told him when they walked into Jensen’s house. The emptiness of his house was pretty much as empty as Jensen felt. He looked around, seeing indications of a life shared.

“He would say that,” Jensen agreed. “But I fucked up big time.”

“Maybe he just needs some time,” Kane suggested.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, maybe.” He wasn’t convinced.

Two months later, Jensen gave up. “Find me some place to go,” he said to Kane. 

“Are you sure?” Kane asked. “Jared just asked for some time. You owe him that.”

Jensen nodded. “I know, man. I can’t just sit back and wait for my life to hit the reset button.”

Kane looked at him intently for a moment. “Okay, if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. C’mon, find me something to do, somewhere to go.”

“I’ve got a friend, he’s a former player, left the tour a little while ago. Now he’s decided that he’s going to be a world-famous photographer,” Kane said. “Rosey is here in LA for a couple of weeks and then he’s heading for Nepal for a few months.”

“Nepal?” Jensen asked. He knew Mike Rosenbaum by reputation only. “What the fuck for?”

Kane shrugged. “Taking pictures of yaks or some shit,” he said. “You feel like going with him?”

Jensen didn’t hesitate. “I’m not running away,” he said.

Kane nodded. “I know.” His smile was rueful. “You’ve been through the fucking wars, man. A break from tennis and your life would probably be a good thing for you.”

“Rosey knows that I’m a cripple?” Jensen asked.

Kane’s eyes went hard and narrow. “You’re not a cripple asshole, except maybe your brain?” Kane snorted. “Rosey’s completely fucked in his head, but you won’t be bored.”

Jensen took off with Mike Rosenbaum two weeks later. He was sick of himself and he really didn’t need the pity party he’d been holding for the past while. They headed out with no set destination in mind and for the first time in almost two years, Jensen didn’t hate the world.

And then they met Tom. And Clive.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/8ECB8E7A-2BBF-4859-9A64-112568909F74-8321-00000984880C0083.jpg.html)

****

_forehand_

  
_Himalayan Mountains, Tibet_  


The monastery was quiet. It was _always_ quiet, but today there was something different in the silence. Jensen wandered into the garden and headed to the sunny patch that was his domain.

He smiled at the sunflowers, their seed-black faces turned to face the morning sun. He knelt in the dirt, fingers already digging into the soil. He couldn’t believe the sense of satisfaction he felt at this simple task.

He’d not missed much about the world outside. When Tom and Rosey had left, they’d asked him to join them. Not wanting to be the third wheel on that insane bicycle, Jensen had decided to stay at the monastery. It had been the making of him. He couldn’t wait to tell Misha that all his “woo-woo” crap about meditation had been right.

He looked over to where some of the monks were going through their daily meditation. He recognized Clive near the back of the group, his smooth bald head somehow a little more distinct than that of the others. He rubbed at his own scalp. The hair was growing back, faster now. 

This was to be the last time Jensen’s head was shaved. It had happened ten times now, but this was the last time. The Lama had told him that once his hair had grown to a certain length, his time at the monastery would end. 

Jensen wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Here, at the foothills of the Himalayas, he’d found a peace within himself that he’d never imagined existed. His heart and soul had been healed. 

He sat back on his haunches and followed the sunflowers’ lead, lifting his head to the sun and feeling the warmth caress his face. He hadn’t said a word in almost a year and hadn’t missed speaking at all. He hadn’t felt the need for conversation at first, content to allow the cool tranquility of the monastery soak into him. 

After the first month of silence, it had become steadily easier. The monks communicated with hand gestures and facial expressions and Jensen had become adept at reading body language. Only the Lama spoke and even then it was so seldom that each time had felt like an important event.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the Lama standing behind him. He smiled up at him and it was returned. Jensen had never been able to figure out the Lama’s age but he reckoned it was somewhere between fifty and a hundred. It didn’t matter though, and Jensen stood obediently when the Lama gestured for him to do so.

He followed the Lama back into the monastery, enveloped once more by the sense of calm that seemed to permeate the very foundation of the ancient building. He watched the Lama push open a door and motion him inside.

The door closed behind them and Jensen looked around. It was an office, obviously the Lama’s, and Jensen knew that his time here was done. “I have to leave,” he said and his voice cracked with almost a year of disuse.

The Lama smiled at him, gentle and kind. “Time to leave,” he nodded. “Time for living, stop hiding.”

“I’m not ready,” Jensen protested. His throat felt raw and so did his heart. 

“Ready,” the Lama insisted and pressed his palm to Jensen’s chest. “No more hiding,” he said again. “You yearn for your love. Must go home.”

Jensen’s laugh was watery. “I don’t think I fit there anymore,” he said.

The Lama shook his head. “Your heart knows,” he said. “This was time to heal; now is time to live.”

Jensen thought about the people he’d left behind. The friends he’d alienated. The fans he’d deserted. 

Jared.

“I don’t think I can go back to that life,” he admitted.

“New life,” the Lama shook his head, face creasing in a smile. “Better you, better life.”

And suddenly Jensen was desperate to go home. Suddenly everything about his time here in Tibet seemed almost a memory. It _was_ time to go home and find his space in the world he’d been hiding from for the past year. Find his place with the people who were hopefully still waiting for him to grow the fuck up.

Jensen’s mouth curved in a smile. “Okay then,” he said. “I’d better get my butt moving.”

The Lama nodded and pressed his forehead to Jensen’s. “You come back and visit,” he ordered.

“Thank you,” Jensen whispered, his eyes scratchy with unshed tears. “I think you might have saved my life.”

The few things he’d brought with him into the monastery fit into a canvas satchel that he slung across his chest. He walked to the doors leading out of the monastery and down the mountainside. 

He took a step towards them and turned to look as a movement caught his attention. It was Clive. The monk who’d started this journey with him looked a little sad to be seeing him leave.

“Hey,” Jensen smiled. “Glad you’re here, man.”

Clive pointed at the satchel. “Yeah, I’m finally out of your hair.” Jensen grinned and Clive shook his head, mouth reluctantly curling up as he rubbed at his bald scalp. “Figuratively speaking,” Jensen clarified.

Clive waved at the door. Jensen nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I’m headed.”

Clive patted his arm. Jensen looked at him. “Thank you,” he said. Clive tipped his head to the side, eyebrows raised in question. “Thank you for letting me come with you. You changed my life for the better.”

Clive shook his head and pressed a hand to Jensen’s heart. Jensen smiled. “Yeah, the Lama said the same thing.” 

Clive’s eyebrows went higher then and Jensen laughed. “Fine, I’m not going to argue with you or him. Just please, let me say thank you.”

Clive leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Jensen’s just like the Lama had done. They stood there for a moment, breathing in the cool comfort of the monastery hallway. Jensen felt a wrench inside him as he stepped back, pulled away. “I’m going to miss you,” he told Clive.

Clive blinked and his eyes were a little damp. He nodded and patted Jensen’s arm again and then patted his own chest.

“Bye,” Jensen said and turned to leave. 

He counted the stairs down as he descended back into the real world. Three hundred and eighty-two steps.

He didn’t look back once.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/30E803D1-EAED-4152-8EF4-91A1B49B05B3-8321-00000984839D1A76.jpg.html)

**NOW**

****

_love-fifteen_

When the phone rang on Monday morning, Jensen groaned and shoved a pillow over his face. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

He ignored it. 

It stopped ringing.

And started up again.

“Fuck,” he muttered and grabbed the phone, glancing at the Caller ID. He sighed and pushed the answer button. “It’s too early for this, Kane.”

His manager, best friend and all-around pain in the ass made a noise. “Wake up, Ackles, I’ve got news.”

Jensen groaned, but sat up obediently. “Fine, I’m up. What’ve you got cooking in that crazy brain of yours?”

Kane cackled and Jensen had a fleeting moment of terror. “We’re back in the game, baby!” he crowed, his tone of voice entirely wrong for his normally laid-back friend. It made Jensen immediately suspicious. He’d learned things the really hard way with Kane.

Jensen put his phone on speaker and started his morning routine. He rotated his shoulders until he heard the joints click in protest. “Back in what game?” Jensen never knew quite what Christian Kane was going to come up with.

“I’ve found someone who’s willing to put up with your lazy ass,” Kane told him, and there was a smug satisfaction in his voice.

Jensen froze. “Kane,” he said and put every bit of warning he could summon in his voice. “I told you…”

Kane made a dismissive noise. “Please, you’re bored shitless and need a hobby.”

Jensen felt his teeth start to hurt. It happened every time someone tried to push him into doing something he didn’t want to do. “I’m actually pretty happy with where my life is right now, thanks,” he said.

Kane ignored the sarcasm. “Bullshit,” he declared. “Ever since you got back from your playing at being the Dalai Lama, you’ve been going fucking crazy.”

“No I haven’t,” Jensen refuted.

“”You’ve signed up for cooking classes, for fuck’s sake!” Jensen could practically see Kane’s horrified expression.

“Maybe I want to get in touch with my inner Julia Child,” Jensen said.

“Please. You burn water,” Kane scoffed and Jensen scowled.

“Remind me why I keep you around again?” Jensen asked and lifted a leg up onto the chair next to his bed. He bent forward, pressing his chest against his knee, ignoring his body’s loud protests, and grabbing at his foot with his hands.

“Because I put up with your shit, Jenny,” Kane said.

“Don’t call me Jenny, fucker,” Jensen said automatically. 

“Seriously though,” Kane was a pit-bull when he wanted something. “I’ve found someone who is prepared to put up with your prima donna ass. He’s just as eager to get back in the game.”

Jensen stood, grabbed his phone and headed for the kitchen. “Don’t tell me Federer wants back on the tour full-time?” he joked - although if Roger wanted to play with Jensen then he would be totally down with that. He grinned to himself at his own double-entendre, and missed Kane’s reply. “What?”

He put the phone on the island in the middle of the kitchen and went to his coffee machine. The wonders of modern technology made sure that his drug of choice was available twenty-four seven. 

“Jared Padalecki has agreed to be your doubles partner,” Kane said and Jensen dropped his mug on the floor, staring as the pieces of pottery shattered at his feet. 

“Jen? You okay, man?” Kane’s voice got more urgent the longer Jensen didn’t reply. “What the fuck, Jensen!”

Jensen grabbed the phone. “I’m fine,” he assured Kane. “Just dropped my coffee mug.”

“Thought you’d fallen and broken something,” Kane muttered. “So, what do you think?” he asked, focusing back on the subject at hand. Jensen had futilely hoped for instant memory loss.

“Not a fucking snowball’s chance in hell,” Jensen told him and ended the call. He turned the sound off after the third call from Kane.

He thought about Jared Padalecki and sighed. Considering their history, Jared had some big-ass brass balls to even think that Jensen would take him up on his offer.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/7B809D3D-6A3D-4B4F-9F62-6DDBAA7DE621-8321-000009846A37F925.jpg.html)

****

_fifteen all_

A little later, memories still battering at his brain, Jensen took out another mug and poured his coffee. He made his way to the backdoor and sat down on the swing on the porch.

Jensen watched a pair of sparrows wrestle over something on the ground later that morning. He grinned at the flapping wings and open beaks as they fought.

His mind wasn’t focusing on them though. Right now, there was only one thing rattling around in his brain.

Fucking Jared Padalecki.

Jensen had been off the tour for almost three years. Not by choice, but by necessity, and his own stubborn stupidity. He would never admit it to Kane, but he was bored and lazy now, and desperate for something to challenge him. No matter what he’d tried, nothing had filled the void that tennis and playing on the ATP tour had left in his life. 

A comeback wasn’t just unexpected: it was fucking impossible.

He heard the phone ringing in the distance and reckoned it was probably Chris calling again. He ignored it. He didn’t want to speak to anyone right now, especially him. 

Padalecki had left the tour the year after Jensen with a torn quad and a promise to return. Jensen had been waiting for him to show up again. 

Jared hadn’t rejoined the tour yet, citing a longer than expected recuperation time so that he could come back stronger than ever. It was almost beyond imagining that Jared would want to play doubles, let alone with Jensen as his partner.

Jensen took a sip of his coffee and narrowed his eyes in thought. There had to be a catch. With Jared, there was _always_ a catch.

He looked up when he heard a car door slam. Not many people visited him anymore. Kane said that it was because he was an anti-social dickwad. Jensen defended his behavior by reminding Kane that he’d been public property for fifteen years of his life. He’d needed some distance from the tour, from the players, from the fans.

They’d reached an impasse.

The doorbell chimed and Jensen debated not answering. He had a feeling that it was Chris though, and Kane wouldn’t leave without a lot of noise. Jensen wasn’t a fan of a lot of noise.

He got up and went to the door, automatically looked through the peephole and scowled at his manager. “Get lost, fucker,” he shouted.

“I will lean on this bell until you open the fucking door,” Kane yelled back and proceeded to match actions to words.

The normally soothing sound of wind-chimes he’d brought back from Tibet grated on Jensen’s nerves after about a minute of solid ringing. He wrenched the door open and glared at Kane. “Your continued existence in my life is something I need to remedy,” he said.

Kane shoved the door further open and came inside without an invite. “You love me, baby,” Kane made a kissing face and Jensen’s scowl deepened.

“Seriously, you’re fired,” he said.

Kane snorted and headed for the kitchen, Jensen trailing after him. He was already pouring a cup of coffee when Jensen came in. “You don’t know just how awesome I am, Jensen, and you need to learn some respect, son.” He pointed the mug at Jensen and coffee sloshed out of the cup.

“Stop messing up my kitchen, dickhead.” Jensen grabbed some towels and mopped up the few drops that had spilled.

“Did you grow a vagina while I wasn’t looking?” Kane stared at him, horrified. “God, you _are_ fucking Julia Child!”

“More like Gordon Ramsey,” Jensen said and stood back up. “I’m not going to be Jared Padalecki’ s doubles partner.” He knew why Kane had come over and he wasn’t biting.

Kane was still trying to deal with Jensen’s domesticity and said, “What?”

“Padalecki?” Jensen reminded him. “You know our history and why I’m not his biggest fan and he’s sure as fuck not mine. I don’t think we’d be able to play on the same side of the net.”

“Roger and Rafa have teamed up,” Kane pointed out.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, I know, Rafa called me last week.” He’d stayed in touched with a select few of the players he’d known when he’d been on the tour. The friendships had lasted despite the fact that he’d mostly been an asshole to everyone. The reminders of what he’d lost hadn’t helped, so he’d tried to keep the contact to a minimum.

“So?” Kane asked and Jensen shook his head.

“I’m not ready.”

“Fuck that shit,” Kane scoffed. “You’ve been ready since the day you announced your retirement.”

“Seriously, Padalecki was the only one interested?” Jensen could feel the pout and was powerless to stop it.

Kane looked at him and Jensen’s gaze dropped. “You were kind of a dick to everyone before you left, Jensen.” His voice was softer. “You lost a lot of respect.”

Jensen sighed and rolled his shoulders. He headed for his gym and Kane followed. “I know I have some fences to mend,” he admitted as he pulled his socks and tennis shoes on.

“Some?” Kane’s eyebrows were raised. 

“Shut up,” Jensen muttered and started the treadmill. 

“Stop pretending that this is going to go away, Jensen,” Kane stood in front of him as he began his warm-up.

“I’m not,” Jensen protested. “But it’s pointless freaking out about it now. I’m not on the tour at the moment, so it doesn’t matter.” He focused on the familiar feeling of the movement of the treadmill picking up the pace.

“You are the most delusional asshole I’ve ever had the privilege to meet,” Kane glared at him. “You make such huge piles of shit for yourself that you’re drowning in it.”

Jensen glared back at Chris. “I’m just being smart,” he said and sped up, his knee giving a twinge as he put more pressure on it. “Why court problems until you have to face them?”

Kane threw his hands up. “I give up!” He stomped over to the weights and started lifting a fifteen pound dumbbell. 

They exercised in silence for a while. Jensen ran until the sweat was pouring off him. He hated arguing with Kane. He hated even more being the one in the wrong.

“So, Padalecki , huh?” he asked eventually. 

Kane looked over at him, eyes wary. “Yeah.”

“You know we really fucked things up there at the end,” Jensen reminded Kane.

“That’s because you two were so fucking into each other, you couldn’t see the possibility of friendship beyond being fuck buddies.” 

Kane’s characteristic bluntness made Jensen scowl at him again. “We weren’t fuck buddies, you dick. Jared meant a lot to me.”

“And yet you wimped out and ran away to find yourself, leaving me to lie to him.” Kane wouldn’t back down.

Jensen knew he was right. It didn’t mean he had to like it. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that right?”

Kane shrugged. “If the gay love fits…”

“Bite me,” Jensen told him.

“Nah, that’ll be Jared’s job,” Kane said.

Jensen tried not to tell himself that this was a recipe for complete disaster.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_thirty-fifteen_

Kane left a little later, telling Jensen that he wasn’t going to give up on this idea.

Jensen stopped the treadmill and rubbed his eyes. This little trip down memory lane reminded him that it had been a while since he’d talked to Ollie. He headed back to his room for his phone.

Oliver’s number was third on his speed dial list. “Hey Ollie,” he said when he heard the excited voice on the other side.

“Jensen!” Ollie exclaimed. “I was just talking about you.”

Jensen grinned. Somehow, despite all the odds being against him, Ollie had lived. He was eight now, growing like a weed and too smart for his own good. “I was just thinking about _you_ ,” he told Ollie.

“Why?” Ollie asked. 

Jensen laughed. The kid was one of the few people in his life who had carte blanche to ask him anything. “Kane wants me to play doubles with Jared,” he said.

“Jared and you would kick everyone’s butt!” Ollie declared with the utter conviction of the true fan.

“So you think it’s a good idea?” Jensen was curious and he could always rely on Ollie to give him the truth.

“You’d be awesome as a team,” Ollie affirmed and then paused.

“What?” Jensen urged.

“Is your knee okay now, Jensen?” 

Jensen knew a subject change when he heard one. “Ollie…”

Ollie sighed. “It’s just that you guys used to fight so much. I mean, that was why you had the…” he stopped and Jensen could almost hear the sadness.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he said. “Me and JT, we’re like two stupid bull elephants that keep bumping heads.”

Ollie thought about this. “It’s more like you’re cats,” he said eventually.

“Cats?” Jensen asked, wondering where Ollie’s mind was going.

“Yeah,” Ollie said and Jensen grinned at the slang. Ollie’s mom hated her posh little British boy using ‘Americanisms’. Jensen encouraged it and Ollie gleefully obliged. “You guys keep hissing and scratching and being mad at each other, when really all you want is to be friends.”

Jensen laughed. “You realize that when cats hiss and scratch at each other it usually means they never want to be friends, right?”

“Oh no,” Ollie sounded certain. “Maggie, our cat, was so mad at Casper, the black cat next door, that she gave him a big scratch on his nose.

“Uh, Ollie…” Jensen was afraid he knew exactly where this story was going.

“But then he jumped on her one day and rubbed himself all over her and they were best friends.” Ollie stopped. “Then she got babies and started growling at him again.”

Jensen put a hand over his mouth so that Ollie couldn’t hear him sniggering. “That’s what cats do when they mate, Ollie.”

“Uh-huh,” Ollie agreed. “That’s why I said you and JT are _just_ like cats.”

Out of the fucking mouths of fucking babes, Jensen thought.

“Me and JT aren’t like that, Ollie,” Jensen was careful with his words now. “JT and I, we’re more…” he wasn’t sure how to finish this.

“You haven’t got anyone?” Ollie sounded distraught. “Who rubs your knee when it gets sore?”

If Jensen ever had kids, he wanted every single one of them to be like Ollie. “I have a physiotherapist to help me with my knee, buddy.”

“But what about at night, when it aches?” Ollie wailed.

Jensen didn’t want his little friend to worry. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” he assured Ollie. “Only when it’s cold and it doesn’t get cold much here in Los Angeles.”

There was a short silence and then Ollie said, “I think you should play doubles with Jared. Then maybe you can be happy again.”

Jensen let his head drop against the wall. “Yeah, I’m thinking you might be right, Ollie.”

“Of course I am,” Ollie exclaimed. “I’m your mascot remember?”

Jensen laughed. “That you are Oliver McKenzie, that you are.”

He said goodbye to Ollie and went to pick up his phone.

Kane picked up immediately. “Talk to me,” he ordered.

“Talk to you about what?” Jensen wanted to punish the asshole. He could hear the smug knowledge in Kane’s voice.

“You and Padalecki, the Dream Team.” Kane stated. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

And Jensen finally let himself smile.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/DF5C38A7-105D-43E4-B9CF-37B9CE3556CF-8321-000009847585654F.jpg.html)

****

_thirty-all_

Jensen really hated remembering that time. It had cost him his career in singles competition and the budding relationship he’d had with Jared.

He waved Kane off. His manager was practically rubbing his hands together in glee. 

Jensen turned to go back inside and then spotted the black Mercedes parked at the corner of his street. He walked down to the gate and stared.

His heart felt like it was going to jump right out of his chest when the door opened and Jared climbed out. He’d forgotten just how tall he was.

“Hey Jensen,” he called and Jensen just watched as he came closer.

“Kane told me to come with him but I thought it might be better if I waited to see what you’d say,” Jared said.

“He’s probably called the National Enquirer already,” Jensen said. “He’s not going to give me any wiggle room.”

Jared stepped closer and Jensen braced himself. “You look good,” Jared said and then Jensen was engulfed in long arms and the scent of home.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_thirty-forty_

Jensen allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of being in Jared’s arms for about a second and then pulled back.

“You look good, JT,” his voice was a little hoarse and he tried to keep it steady.

Jared only let Jensen move about an inch away and then hauled him back in again. “You’re not going anywhere just yet, okay?”

Jared’s easy affection made Jensen’s throat close up. “You shouldn’t…” he tried.

“Shut up, asshole, you’ve had about three years to be a dick. That’s more time than most get and now you’re going to have to deal with me.” Jared’s voice was gruff in his ears and Jensen slumped into Jared’s embrace.

“I missed you,” Jensen confessed.

“You had my number,” Jared told him.

“Yeah,” Jensen admitted and smiled against the warm skin of Jared’s neck. “I’ve been busy.”

“Being a fuck-up?” Jared asked and Jensen snorted a laugh. “Gross dude, no snot on my skin, okay?”

He let Jensen pull away this time and followed him as he headed back to the house. “You’re going to be an asshole about this, aren’t you?” Jensen asked over his shoulder.

Jared’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m just going to let the last two years of radio silence go by with no consequences?” he asked.

“Yes?” Jensen suggested. “You _are_ the one who left first, remember?”

Jared glared at him and then huffed out a sigh. “You’re going to equate me taking a break from you for a month or two, to you disappearing from the face of the earth?”

Jensen shook his head. “No man. I was an idiot and I’ll own that. I was hoping that we could at least be civil. After all, I agreed to play doubles with you.”

They reached the front door and Jared turned Jensen to face him again. “Jensen, you fucked up.” His face was serious.

Jensen sighed. “I know.” He met Jared’s gaze. “So, what kind of groveling are we talking about here?”

Jared tipped his head to one side and considered him. “How about I get back to you on that?” he asked. “We need to get on a court as soon as possible if we want to be competitive come January.”

The fact that Jared was deferring whatever punishment he could think up did not make Jensen feel any more comfortable. But he nodded and went to grab some practice clothes.

When he came back out of the bedroom, he saw Jared standing in front of the mantelpiece. He turned to look at Jensen. “You got rid of everything?”

Jensen nodded. “I didn’t think I’d ever pick up a racquet again, let alone play professionally.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s just stuff, JT, nothing of any real value.”

Jared’s eyes went wide. “It’s proof of your success, Jensen,” he shook his head. “It shows that for that time, in this world, you were somebody important.”

Jensen looked away. “I’ve always been somebody important to the people who love me.” His voice was low and he heard the pain in his own words.

“Jen,” Jared stepped towards him and Jensen held up a hand.

“New start, JT.” Jensen tried to keep his face impassive as he lifted his gaze. “How about we try that?”

Jared stared at him for a moment or two, face assessing. “You still don’t get a bye for being an asshole and cutting off the entire world,” he said.

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “You knew how to find me,” he pointed out.

Jared shook his head. “A guy can only take so many ‘fuck off I hate you and want you to die in a fire’ moments, you know?”

Jensen flushed. “I was pretty shitty to you, wasn’t I?” 

Jared’s mouth was grim. “If Kane hadn’t told me what was going on, I’d have thought you’d killed yourself. You were that messed up, Jen.” 

Jensen’s throat went tight. “JT -”

“I thought you _were_ dead. It didn’t help that when I got hold of Kane he told me that you’d left strict orders not to tell me where you were.”

“Jared.”

“It was three days before he called me back and told me that you’d gone on some kind of booze cruise around the Caribbean and had dropped your phone in the ocean.” Jared’s eyes were flat.

“I…” Jensen couldn’t think of one thing to say that would make up for any of it. “He lied because I asked him to.”

“I didn’t call Kane for about three months after that,” Jared told him. “I was so fucking mad at you.”

“I fucked up,” Jensen said quietly and then Jared was holding onto him again, warm and solid and real.

“You did,” Jared whispered. “I tried to hate you, Jensen. Even when you disappeared for a year and didn’t tell anyone where you were.”

“I told Kane I was okay,” Jensen said, feeling defensive and guilty and hating the reminder of how very fucked in the head he’d been.

“And that was _all_ he told me,” Jared said. Jensen heard the pain in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, helpless to make amends after all this time.

“Okay,” Jared said but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We still need to talk about this shit though.”

“I know,” Jensen admitted. “Later, alright?”

Jared nodded. “You’re just lucky I’m the low maintenance one in this relationship,” he joked, obviously trying to bring things back to a less emotional place.

Jensen’s eyes burned. His arms were tight around Jared’s waist. “I’m glad you’re that guy,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky I’m still stupid about you,” Jared muttered, sounding a little bit pissed off at himself. 

Jensen leaned back and stared up at Jared. “What?” he asked.

“You’re a fuck-up and a diva and a has-been, but I still think you’re the hottest piece of ass on the planet.” Jared winked to remove the sting. 

“I could be completely involved with someone else,” Jensen pointed out, more for appearance than anything else.

“Kane told me everything,” Jared told him and the thought of Kane and Jared conspiring behind his back made Jensen shiver.

“Kane knows nothing,” Jensen said and tried to step away. 

Jared’s arms stayed tightly around him. “You’re not with anyone,” Jared stated it as fact.

Jensen glared at him. “I could be,” he insisted. For form’s sake.

“You’re not,” Jared said and his voice went low. “And, even if you were, that would have to end right now.”

Jensen stiffened. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“The Jared you left holding his dick in his hand two years ago,” Jared said. “Only this time, I’m not going to let you push me away.”

Jensen struggled a little but Jared had arms like a fucking vice. “Seriously, dude, let me go.”

“You were mine from the second I got my hand on your cock in that locker room four years ago, Jensen,” Jared’s voice was low and sure. “I’m done waiting.”

Jensen stared at him. “You sound like the bad guy from some crappy Jean-Claude van Damme movie,” he told Jared.

Jared grinned, the darkness clearing from his face. “Jean-Claude is a legend,” he agreed.

Jensen managed to get an elbow wedged in and pushed Jared away. “So _not_ what I was talking about, you moron.”

“I know,” Jared’s face was still bright. “So, do you want to ride with me or do you want to keep your escape options open?”

It was a fucking dare, the asshole. Jensen glowered at him. It would be so easy to lose control, get angry, say something he’d regret. Instead he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. A year in a monastery had to be good for something after all. “I’ll ride with you,” he said and knew that he’d been played when Jared’s smile went wider. “Fucker.”

“Aw, Jensen, you love me and you know it,” Jared said. Jensen flipped him off and picked up his bag. 

“Let’s do this,” he said, his chest tight.

He followed Jared out of the front door.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/D6182FE3-47B0-4D71-8079-574948A9B14C-8321-000009847F6A5972.jpg.html)

****

_deuce_

Jensen climbed into the passenger seat and ran a hand over the butter-soft leather. “Nice,” he noted.

Jared pulled away, glancing over at him with a smile. “I like her.”

“Her?” Jensen’s eyebrows went up. “You call your car a ‘her’?”

“One of them,” Jared said and slid smoothly into the traffic heading into Los Angeles.

“You have more than one car?” Jensen felt like he didn’t know this Jared.

“It’s been a long time, dude,” Jared reminded him. “Things have changed since you last saw me.”

“I’ll say,” Jensen agreed. “So what other cars do you have?”

Jared tuned into one of the more exclusive parts of North Hollywood, and shook his head. “This is what you want to talk about?” his mouth quirked. “We haven’t seen each other or spoken in two years and you want to ask me about my cars?”

Jensen shifted in his seat. “It’s a start,” he offered.

Jared put his foot down and Jensen waited for him to reply. 

“I have a Porsche 911, a Range Rover and a Harley besides the Merc,” Jared said after a while.

“Three cars, JT? Is that over compensating for something?” Jensen’s mouth curved in a smile. 

Jared’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “Now, Jensen, you know that’s just not true.” His voice was low and rough and Jensen couldn’t control the shiver.

“Where are we going?” Jensen asked, looking around as they turned into a driveway with a large gate.

“My place,” Jared said and the gate slid open.

Jensen stared as they drove through an avenue of old oak trees. “This is where you live?” he looked over at Jared.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for about a year now,” Jared said.

“But, you’re like, ten minutes away from me,” Jensen said. 

“Yeah,” Jared admitted, and this time he sounded nervous. “I always liked the area.”

“You’ve been this close for a year and I’ve never seen you?” Jensen knew NoHo wasn’t that big. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

Jared pulled up in front of a big house. It wasn’t ostentatious but looked sort of like Jared’s folks’ home back in Texas. He turned the ignition off and turned to face Jensen. “I saw you a couple of times,” he admitted.

“And?” Jensen frowned. “You couldn’t say hi?”

“Jensen,” Jared’s expression was skeptical. “The last time we talked…”

“I told you to fuck off and die, yeah I know,” Jensen waved a hand. “But you couldn’t say hi?” He felt ridiculously hurt.

“I kinda hated you for a while, man,” Jared climbed out of the car and Jensen scrambled to follow. “I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to kick your ass or kiss it.”

Jensen flushed, grateful for the fact that Jared was leading the way into his house and wasn’t looking at him. “I can’t remember you being a coward, JT.”

Suddenly he was pushed back against a wall, all of what felt like six hundred feet of Jared against him. “You fucked me up, Jen.” Jared’s voice was hard and his body was hot.

Jensen was having a bit of a problem focusing on Jared’s words when his own body was screaming for Jared to touch, to taste, to take.

It had been far too long. He’d not really been with anyone since Jared, not really cared. Fast, easy, no-strings fucking wasn’t what Jensen wanted anymore. Until this morning, he wouldn’t have been able to say what he wanted.

But here, now, with Jared’s warm breath against his cheek and Jared’s hard body pressing against his, Jensen realized that he’d been wanting Jared, missing Jared. Since the moment he’d left him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and lifted his mouth as an offering. 

Jared bent down and kissed him, teeth biting a little nastily on his lower lip, and Jensen didn’t even try to pull away. Part of him wanted this, wanted the punishment. 

Jared made a sound at the back of his throat and pulled back. “This isn’t why we’re here,” he said and he sounded raw.

Jensen cleared his throat and stepped carefully to the side, away from the temptation of lean muscle. It took more self-control than he’d ever needed when he’d been at the top of his game and he ached, dick hard in his jeans. The lessons he’d learned from Clive and the monks kicked in and he took a deep breath and let his hands fall away.

“Yeah,” he nodded and knew that he looked disappointed. Jared’s hands made an abortive move towards him and then dropped.

“The court is out back,” Jared said instead. “You can use any room if you want to get changed.”

Jensen took another few steps further away from Jared and went to the first door. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I missed you,” he told Jared. It was the most honest thing he’d said so far. “I fucked up; I drove you away. And I missed you. Every goddamn day, JT.”

He closed the door on Jared’s stunned expression.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_advantage: Padalecki_

Jensen squared his shoulders and stepped out of the room once he’d changed into a pair of shorts, a raggedy tee and his tennis shoes. The scars on his knee didn’t bother him so much anymore. He thought of them as battle scars sometimes when he’d had too much to drink and was feeling poetic.

He followed the sound of ball hitting racquet and saw Jared tapping a tennis ball against a concrete wall.

“Not much competition, JT,” he said with a smirk and Jared lifted his head to grin at him.

“It’s about time, princess.” He waved Jensen down to join him. “You like?” 

Jensen looked around as he took the steps down to the court. “It’s alright,” he said and hid a smile at Jared’s indignant expression. 

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Ackles,” Jared told him and took his place on the other side of the net. “I’ll go easy on you, baby,” he promised.

“Bitch,” Jensen muttered and waited for the first ball.

“Jerk,” Jared said and served.

Over the next half hour, Jensen kept waiting for his knee to buckle, his leg to give in, for his body to shout enough. It never came.

Playing tennis felt as natural as breathing, and pretty quickly he and Jared were hitting rallies that lasted twenty strokes and more. Jensen was in the zone faster than he’d expected, scrambling for balls that came flying at him from every side.

“You still have the gift,” Jared told him at their first drinks break.

Jensen shrugged. “You haven’t pushed me yet,” he admitted, gulping down the icy cold energy drink.

“You want me to push you?” Jared asked.

Jensen met Jared’s eyes. “You never treated me with kid gloves, JT,” he said. “No need to start now.”

Jared nodded and put his bottle down. “Let’s do this, then,” he said and there was dark promise in his voice.

It made Jensen hard and aching in ten seconds flat. He focused on the bounce of the ball, the natural feel of it shaping into his hand. He concentrated on the grip of his racquet, an extension of his arm and served.

Jared whooped in delight as the serve whipped past him. “Holy shit, Jensen! That was fucking amazing!” His eyes were bright and his mouth was stretched in a grin.

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that worked,” he nodded, trying to hide his pleased smile.

“False modesty is a very ugly dress on you, Jenny!” Jared knew just which buttons to push and Jensen glared. 

“Don’t call me Jenny, asshole,” Jensen growled and hit his next serve with so much topspin that it completely changed direction on Jared.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Jen-ny?” Jared drawled the hated nickname out and Jensen flipped him off.

“Shut up, you fucker,” Jensen called back and served again. This time the ball bounced right down the center court line and Jared scrambled but failed to get it.

“Shit, Jensen, you are a motherfucking miracle,” Jared told him and Jensen tried not to get flustered at the open admiration on Jared’s face.

“Singles isn’t doubles, JT,” he reminded Jared.

“Yeah, I know,” Jared didn’t sound really worried. “You might not be able to handle a full match yet.”

Jensen took this as a challenge and spent the next hour trying to make Jared eat his words.

They were sweaty and exhausted at the end of it but for the first time in three years, Jensen felt happy.

“Not too shabby for a has-been,” Jared told him as they headed back into the house.

“Not too bad for a bridesmaid,” Jensen said.

“Worst insult ever, asshat,” Jared told him. “What does that even mean?”

Jensen followed him into the kitchen and gratefully accepted the bottle of water Jared offered him.

“Well, you spent most of your career following in my footsteps,” Jensen reminded him with a little smirk. 

Jared didn’t seem too perturbed. “So, I’m guessing this makes you the bride?” he asked.

Jensen had forgotten just how quick Jared could be. 

“How is the knee holding up?” Jared asked, changing the subject.

“It seems to be okay,” Jensen reached down and rubbed at the repaired joint. “I’ve kept fit.”

Jared nodded, suddenly serious. “You’re moving well too,” he said.

Jensen felt his cheeks heat and cursed his skin. “I carried on with physiotherapy when you left,” he admitted. “And I’ve stayed in shape, work out every day for a couple of hours.”

Jared stared at him. “Seriously?” he asked.

Jensen sighed. “The day you walked out on me, JT, well, let’s just say that it wasn’t the best day of my life.”

Jared pulled some sandwich fixings out of the fridge and motioned Jensen to get bread from the bread-bin. “Dude, you broke Misha’s nose and fell apart in front of a million television viewers.”

The memory made Jensen grimace and he handed Jared the rye bread. “I was an asshole,” he admitted. “And there are many, many things I regret about that time.” He met Jared’s gaze. “Possibly my biggest regret was how badly I treated you.”

Jared focused on building the sandwiches. “It took me a long time to get over you, Jensen.” His confession was low and a little shaky.

“I don’t think I ever got over you, JT,” he said and Jared looked up again, the pain visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Jensen said. “I fucked everything up because I was terrified.”

“Of what?” Jared asked, concentrating on putting lettuce and tomato on top of the turkey slices. “The doctors told you that the prognosis was good and that you’d play again. What made you believe that it wasn’t going to happen?”

Jensen rolled suddenly tight shoulders. “I didn’t believe them,” he said and it was just that simple.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/8ECB8E7A-2BBF-4859-9A64-112568909F74-8321-00000984880C0083.jpg.html)

****

_deuce_

“So can you do anything with the asshole?” Kane asked Jared when he came over to watch them at their second practice.

They were in Jared’s kitchen, drinking ice-cold bottles of water, and Jensen felt loose and relaxed. He’d missed this, the bone-deep exhaustion that only a serious game of tennis left him with. 

He looked away as Jared wiped his mouth, the front of his t-shirt darkened with sweat. Jensen had decided that the only way this was going to work was if he ignored the constant ache in his heart and in his dick for the one he’d let get away.

“Hey!” Jensen protested. “You’d better not be talking about your client,” he warned Kane.

Kane grinned at him and Jensen felt a sharp pang of relief that he’d never slept with Kane. He’d been very tempted during his darkest times when Kane had been the only person Jensen had been willing to tolerate. And had been the only person willing to tolerate Jensen. 

“Darlin’, you know I love you the most,” Kane crooned and Jensen flipped him off.

Jared seemed to be considering the question seriously. “He’s still too cautious about putting weight on his knee and it’s going to end up with him tearing it again or losing every fucking match we play,” he said. His face was completely calm, as though he hadn’t just leveled a critique at Jensen that cut like a blade.

Jensen felt it like a one-two punch to the gut. He glared at Jared. “Well, if I’m so fucking useless, then why don’t you go and line up another lamb to the slaughter?” he snarled.

Jared didn’t seem fazed. “Because **you** on a bad day is still better than almost everyone else on their best day,” he said simply and removed the wind completely from Jensen’s sails.

Kane made an undignified sound. “God, Jenny, he still ties you up in knots, doesn’t he?” It wasn’t said unkindly.

Jensen wanted to punch his friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere boiling bunnies and eating babies?” he asked, allowing the venom to creep into his voice.

Kane took a couple of steps back and held up his hands. “No, don’t you go off being pissed at me, son,” he said. “I’m just checking up on my investment.”

Jensen scowled. “It’s good to know you care, asshole.”

“It’s still like the Hepburn and Tracy show with you two,” Jared noted as he wiped his face off with a small towel. “Are we done?” he asked Jensen.

“I’m guessing Kane isn’t here to shoot the shit, so yeah, I guess we’re done,” Jensen said.

Kane tried to look innocent and failed miserably — innocence sat awkwardly on his face. 

“Spill it, Kane,” Jensen ordered and tossed Jared a bottle of water.

“Ellen called,” Kane began and before he could finish his sentence both Jensen and Jared were shaking their heads. 

“No way, man,” Jared said. “I’m not ready to talk about this yet.”

Jensen poked a thumb at Jared. “What he said.”

Kane’s jaw set in stubborn lines. “We can make it a puff piece,” he wheedled. “Ellen will treat you with kid gloves.”

“No,” Jensen said. “God, Chris, I’m just getting back into playing. I’m nowhere near ready for interviews. Give me the chance to figure out if I’m good enough to go back on the circuit.”

“You’re good enough,” Jared assured him and his earnest face made Jensen forget where he was for a moment. “Or you will be, in a couple of months, with a hell of a lot of work.” Jensen couldn’t look away from him.

“You two are pathetic,” Kane glared at them. “The next time I come over you’ll probably be braiding each other’s hair and painting each other’s nails.”

“Go annoy Steve,” Jensen told him, ignoring the attitude. “This isn’t going to happen overnight and it will go a whole lot faster without you looking over my shoulder, threatening me with publicity.”

“Fine,” Kane picked up his jacket and headed for the front door. “You’re the most ungrateful client ever,” he told Jensen.

“And yet, you love me,” Jensen reminded him and grinned. “I’ll give you a call when I,” he paused and looked at Jared, “when _we_ are ready for our first interview, okay?”

He was surprised at just how much he wanted the smile that Jared leveled at him.

Kane’s answer was the slam of the door.

“You still make him crazy,” Jared noted.

Jensen allowed the smirk to curve his lips. “I regard it as my sacred duty to give that asshole the hardest time I possibly can.”

Jared shook his head and tossed the empty water bottle in a recycling bin. “I’m glad he’s been there for you,” he said and it was utterly sincere.

“I would have gone completely fucking nuts if he hadn’t been,” Jensen admitted. “Not even my momma wanted to deal with me when you…” He stopped.

Jared’s gaze was very steady. “When I…?” he prompted.

Jensen wondered how long they were going to dance around this conversation. “He’s been a good friend,” he said instead.

Jared stared at him for a moment and then sighed. “Jen, we need to talk about what happened,” he began. “You know this partnership is for shit if we don’t deal with our baggage.”

Jensen swallowed hard. “I know,” he admitted. “But not yet, okay?” He willed Jared to let it go this time.

“When?” Jared asked.

Jensen closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not a time I like to remember.”

“It’s part of the reason we didn’t talk for so long,” Jared said.

He was right. Jensen knew that they had to put their past behind them. He squared his shoulders. “Okay, you know what? Let’s do this.” He looked at Jared. “How about we meet at Papa Joe’s for dinner tonight and we get this over with?”

Jared nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “At least we can’t throw punches at each other if we’re in public.”

Jensen’s mouth went tight. “That hasn’t stopped us before,” he reminded Jared.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/BF7D228F-9982-4A57-AF8D-7F3287D0AF21-8321-000009848C07DC8C.jpg.html)

****

_advantage: Ackles_

“Not my finest hour,” Jensen admitted with a rueful smile.

Jared didn’t return the smile though. “That was the moment we were over,” he said instead.

Jensen bit his lip. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think I knew that I’d gone too far.” He hated being wrong but if the last two years had taught him anything, it was that being determined to be right all the time was a very lonely way to live. “I never apologized to you.”

“It wasn’t me who needed the apology,” Jared said. “It was Misha you hit.”

“I _did_ apologize,” Jensen protested. “Eventually.” He hated that he’d lost control so badly. “Man, I was a complete head case then.”

Jared’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “And you’re the poster boy for mental health now?” he teased.

“Asshole,” Jensen said, but there was no heat behind it. It felt almost like they had taken a tiny step back to the friendship they’d once shared, before their relationship had got in the way.

Jensen was surprisingly nervous getting ready for dinner that night. They’d agreed on meeting up at Joe’s instead of Jared picking him up. For a moment Jensen had seen Jared’s almost protest, but having separate cars would most likely be the safer option. Especially if they were going to have a serious discussion about what had gone down two years ago. 

The thing about Joe’s was that nobody knew about it except for the locals and the few friends that Jensen and Jared had introduced over the years. It was a family-run business and Papa Joe was the chef and tyrant who ruled all he surveyed.

“Jensen!” Papa Joe called from the back of the crowded room as soon as he spotted him. He was round and short and looked like a stereotypical Italian grandfather. He was, however, from New York and could swear more than any living person Jensen had ever met.

“Papa,” Jensen smiled and let himself be gathered into strong arms and an embrace that smelled of garlic spice and welcome.

“So, you finally decided to show that pretty fucking face again?” Papa asked. His face was hard but his eyes were kind.

Jensen swallowed. “Yeah,” he said and shook his head. “Sorry I was such an idiot.”

“Fucking right, you’re sorry,” Papa said and waved to the kitchen. “Mama, our prodigal asshole is back!”

Mama Cat was as skinny as Papa Joe was round. She would joke that when they looked at her they’d wonder if there was a famine and when they saw Joe, they’d know why.

“Jensen,” Mama came rushing out of the kitchen and her hug was forgiveness and joy. Jensen felt his eyes burn as he tucked his face into the warmth of her neck.

“Hey, Mama Cat,” he whispered into her skin.

“Don’t you make this staying away thing a habit any more, you hear?” Her words told him how much he’d hurt them.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her as well and thought that with all the apologies he’d been making already, saying sorry to Jared might not be as tough as he’d thought.

“It’s done,” she dismissed the past two years and stepped back, hands on his face, turning it this way and that to inspect him. “God, you’re even prettier.” She sounded a little disgusted and Jensen grinned. “You made a deal with the Devil we need to know about?”

Jensen shook his head. “It’s all in the genes,” he told her and she tucked her hand into the curve of his elbow as she guided him to his table. _Their table_.

“Jared not here yet?” he asked, going for casual.

Mama Cat’s sly smile told him he hadn’t quite succeeded. “He’s out back with Junior and Sylvia,” she told him. “He’s still a regular here.”

Jensen flinched. Their friends had taken sides and they’d divided up their home. Even their favorite places had been separated. “I’ve missed you guys,” he said.

“You and Jared, something happening with you two again?” Mama Cat sounded hopeful.

Jensen shook his head. “Nah, we’re just business these days. Jared and I are thinking about playing doubles on the tour.”

Mama Cat beamed. “And you can beat those two foreigners who seem to win everything these days,” she said.

“Roger and Rafa are the best for a reason,” Jensen said. “We’re all a little past our prime for singles. But doubles is still within reach.”

“That Federer, I swear, he isn’t human,” Mama Cat grumbled as Jensen pulled out his seat. She leaned in close, “I think he might be an alien.”

Jensen laughed and that was when Jared came back into the restaurant. He looked good in black jeans, a white button-down and a skinny tie. Jensen felt his mouth go dry.

“You flirting again, Mama Cat?” Jared asked as he kissed her cheek.

She blushed, smacked his arm and shoved him towards his chair. “Please, you know I only have eyes for Papa Joe.”

“And hands for?” Jared teased.

“I will make sure you get extra garlic in everything tonight,” she warned.

Jared grinned at her. “Ah, you know how I love my garlic, Mama Cat. It keeps all those pesky vampires away from me.”

Jensen snorted a laugh and covered it with a cough when Mama Cat’s eyes turned to him.

She shook a finger at them. “Papa says you don’t order tonight. He chooses your meal. Okay?”

Neither Jared nor Jensen was prepared to argue with Papa Joe when it came to food. They both nodded and smiled at the waitress who came over with a pitcher of beer and two glasses.

“Drink,” Mama Cat ordered. “Food is coming. It’s a good night.” She patted Jensen’s cheek. “Very good.”

Jensen watched her head back into the kitchen and turned back to find Jared’s eyes on him. “What?” he asked.

“They missed you,” Jared said.

Jensen shrugged. “I didn’t want to make them choose.” He shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair. “I was the one who’d fucked up. Seemed only right that you got to keep them.”

Jared poured them each a glass of beer. “Nobody said you had to stay away from Joe’s, Jen.” He seemed confused. “You broke up with _me_ , not with everyone else.”

Jensen took a long gulp of beer before he answered. “I felt that I should probably stay away from the people that knew _us_ for a while.” He sighed. “I didn’t want them to feel like they had to choose between us.”

Jared made a small disgusted sort of noise. “Don’t let Papa Joe hear you say that,” he warned. “He’ll be pissed.”

Jensen gave a laugh. “I had my head up my ass for a very long time, JT. I had to get myself sorted out before I could even start thinking about joining the human race again.”

Jared stayed silent, just looking at him. “You hurt a lot of people when you cut them off,” he said eventually.

The words stung, mostly because they were true.

“Yeah,” Jensen could only agree. “But really, I was doing more damage to my relationships being with the people I cared about. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Jared leaned forward. “You disappeared for a year, Jen. Dropped off the face of the earth.”

This time the words were accusing. Jensen knew he deserved them.

“Kane knew where I was,” he said instead.

“That was the only reason I didn’t call out the National Guard,” Jared said. “Why?”

Jensen wondered if he was going to get out of this conversation with his pride intact. He sincerely doubted it.

“After the match, when I got home from the hospital, you’d gone.” Jensen hated remembering that time. “Not a note, not a phone message, nothing.”

“If I’d been there, I’d have fucking knocked your head off your shoulders.” The angry rumble of Jared’s tone told Jensen how serious he was. “I was so goddamn mad at you, Jen.”

“And you had every right to be pissed off at me,” Jensen agreed. “But I got home, knee fucked to hell again, and the one person I counted on to be there for me was gone.”

Jared went pale. “Jen,” he started.

Jensen held up a hand. “No, we do this, get it out in the open and then put it away forever, okay?”

Jared nodded and had to sit back as Mama Cat came over with a platter of bite-sized pieces of heaven.

“Papa says this is for you to get the juices flowing. So you enjoy the food even more.” She smiled at them and then stopped. “All going okay here?”

Jensen attempted a smile in return. “Yeah, this looks awesome, Mama. I’ve missed Papa’s cooking.”

She shook her head. “Things are not right yet, between the two of you.” She fixed her gaze on Jensen. “You fix this tonight, yes?”

Jensen gave an unexpected laugh. “It’s what we’re trying to do here,” he said.

She nodded in satisfaction. “Then I wait with the main course until I see you two smile at each other like you used to.”

Jared put a hand on her arm. “We’re not getting back together, Mama. We’re just clearing the air.”

“You say air clearing, I say making up.” She waved an airy hand. “Fix!”

Jared’s words had made something raw twist inside Jensen. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been hoping that this would be a new start for them. After the way he’d behaved, he really didn’t blame Jared for not wanting to be with him again. 

Jared shook his head as she stalked off. “Maybe Joe’s wasn’t the smartest place to choose,” he said to Jensen.

“I forgot how fucking nosy they are,” Jensen said with a tight laugh, gut still clenched with the knowledge that the only thing he was going to be able to salvage was Jared’s friendship. “God,” he popped one of the cheesy bites into his mouth. It exploded on his tongue with mozzarella cheese and chilies, tomato and basil and some sort of smoky meat that pulled it all together. “These are fucking amazing!” He shoved one at Jared who leaned forward and bit into the stuffed pillows of pasta.

The moment Jared’s lips touched Jensen’s fingers they both froze.

“Uh,” Jensen tried to move back without appearing to jerk away.

Jared sat back again and rubbed at his eyes. “Fuck.” His voice was low and rough. “This would be so much easier if I didn’t feel anything for you anymore.”

Jensen wasn’t sure if he was expected to say anything, so he concentrated on his food, and breathing. 

“So you felt like I’d abandoned you, and I was so mad at you I wanted to do damage,” Jared looked at him. “Is that about where we were?”

Jensen nodded. “And you wanted to know why I disappeared for a year.”

“Kane eventually told me that you’d gone to some private medical facility in Timbuktu where, and I quote, they were going to do some sort of woo-woo healing bullshit on you.” Jared snorted a laugh. “So really, where were you?”

Jensen tried to formulate the right words as he chewed on another delicious mouthful of heaven. He had a feeling that this conversation might be the most important one he would ever have. 

“I went to a monastery in Tibet,” he said eventually.

Jared just about choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. “You went to a what where?” he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You remember Rosey?” Jensen asked instead.

“Mike Rosenbaum?” Jared looked confused. “He’s not been on the tour for years.”

“I know,” Jensen said. “He retired about two years before I fucked up my knee, decided to become a photographer and take a trip around the world to find himself.”

“Okay,” Jared was clearly not following Jensen’s train of thought. “And?”

“He met someone in Nepal, when he decided that he needed to climb Everest.”

“Rosey climbed Everest?” Jared seemed impressed.

Frustrated, Jensen wiped at his mouth. “No, Rosey met Tom in Nepal and they exchanged vows at one of the monasteries there. I think they’re planning on getting married legally in every country that allows it.” He allowed himself to smile.

Jared stared at him. “Not that I’m not enjoying the romantic story of Rosey and Tom, was it? But what the actual fuck does it have to do with you?”

“God, I’m not explaining this very well,” Jensen muttered. “When I fucked up my knee the second time, the end of that first year, Kane called Rosey. They’re friends from way back. Asked him if I could meet up with him in New York. He was on a stop-over, had taken up photography and was trying to find himself. Kane thought that it might be a good thing. That it might help me find my zen or something.”

“So you went to Nepal with Rosey where he met his husband,” Jared nodded. “That about sounds exactly like something Rosey would do.” They shared a small grin. “And Tibet?”

Jensen let himself relax back into his seat. “I didn’t plan on going there, but Tom wanted to go and Rosey sort of does whatever Tom wants so we went to find the Dalai Lama.”

Jared stared at him. “You _do_ know that the Dalai Lama is in exile from Tibet because of the assholiness of China, right?”

Jensen felt the flush rise on the back of his neck. “Well, I do _now_ ,” he said and Jared started laughing.

“I have missed that insane brain of yours,” Jared admitted when he stopped wheezing. “I swear you have the mind of a flea sometimes.”

Jensen’s mouth curved a little in a smile. “Eh, short attention span, I can’t help it if my brain works faster than everyone else’s.”

“Okay, so you went to Tibet to find the Dalai Lama,” Jared prompted.

Jensen could feel the pout forming. “When you say it like that it just sounds stupid,” he said.

“That’s because it _is_ fucking stupid!” Jared said. “But let’s not digress. Tell me more about how you became a monk.”

Jensen glared at him. “I did not become a monk,” he gritted, jaw actually aching with the effort not to shout at Jared. “I stayed in a monastery.”

“For a year,” Jared said.

Jensen crossed his arms defensively. “It was fucking peaceful.”

“Vow of silence?” Jared asked.

“Oh, fuck you, dickhead,” Jensen scowled.

“If you ask nicely,” Jared shot back and just like that, the atmosphere changed. “I’m sorry,” Jared said, dropping his gaze. “We’re not those people anymore.”

Jensen took a deep breath and picked up his beer again. “We met this monk, he didn’t tell us his name. Rosey called him Clive.”

“Clive?” Jared chipped in. “Why Clive?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I can’t explain why Rosey does the things he does,” he said. “He just decided that the monk’s name was Clive and that we were going to tag along with him.”

“To Tibet,” Jared supplied.

Jensen nodded. This had all sounded so much more spiritual when they’d made their plans.

“And how did Clive feel about that?” Jared asked, obviously fascinated. 

“Clive was a cool dude. He let us hang with him until we reached his home.”

“The monastery,” Jared guessed.

“The monastery,” Jensen affirmed.

“In Tibet,” Jared added.

Jensen glared at him. “Then the head monk, the Lama, offered us a place to stay and so we did.”

“For a year?” Jared asked.

“I stayed for a year,” Jensen said. “Tom and Rosey headed out after a month. Rosey had a hard time with the quiet.” He laughed at the memories. “Tom had problems with the head shaving thing.”

“You shaved your head?” Jared’s voice went high and loud and for a moment it felt as though every eye was on them.

“It’s only hair,” Jensen said defensively. “Not like it couldn’t grow back.” He ran a hand through his hair now. “Truth is, being there, in the silence and the clean air and the mountains, it was good for me.” He smiled a little at Jared. “Made me realize what I had lost, what I had done.”

“You didn’t call me when you came back,” Jared said and there was a hitch in his voice, something that betrayed a deep-seated wound that Jensen hated himself for inflicting.

“JT, I was fucked up,” Jensen admitted and he reached out a hand to touch Jared’s. “I wasn’t any good to anyone else until I’d sorted my shit out.”

Jared nodded slowly and Jensen tried not to wince when he pulled his hand away from Jensen’s. “Okay.” He sounded wary but not angry so Jensen counted that as a win. “If you had this epiphany when you were in Tibet, what took you another year to get back to this?” He waved at Jensen’s almost healthy self. “Why did you wait until now to get back into the game?”

Jensen ate the last of the cheese bites and took a deep gulp of beer. He poured more beer into both their glasses and tried to ignore the curious faces of the Leone family from the kitchen.

“First,” he started counting off on his fingers, “when I got back I weighed about half what I weigh now.” Jared stared. “Living on rice and water isn’t good for muscle building,” he said.

“Second, there was no miracle cure for my knee.” He reached down to rub it, sometimes wondering how much of the ache was real and how much of it was phantom pain. “It was better. Not playing had given it a chance to heal but I had to go back into physical therapy to figure out if I’d done more damage. Leaving it for as long as I had didn’t do me any favors either.”

“Not Misha,” Jared guessed.

“God, no,” Jensen shook his head. “Roger hooked me up with the guy who’d helped him with his back a couple years before and Jeff knocked my ass into shape.” He met Jared’s gaze. “You’d like Jeff,” he said. “He didn’t put up with my bullshit.”

One corner of Jared’s mouth tilted in a half smile. “That would be good,” he said. “You need more people to call you on your crap.”

Jensen felt his mouth go tight. “It wasn’t about you, JT.” He really needed Jared to understand this. “I was pretty much useless to anyone until I liked who _I_ was again.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” Jared said. “You made the decision for me. Made me feel like what we had wasn’t important.”

Jensen couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Are you fucking crazy?” he asked. “When you weren’t there that night I got home from the hospital, I thought you’d finally realized what a douche I actually was and dropped my ass.”

“I was in fucking love with you, Jensen,” Jared told him. “I just needed one night away from you so that I didn’t hate you at the same time.” The words were like a whip, flaying his skin open and making him bleed. Jensen felt sick.

“And that’s why I never contacted you,” he said, not letting the pain he felt show in his voice. “I thought you deserved better.”

“I loved you,” Jared repeated. “I didn’t want anyone else.” His eyes were intent on Jensen. “I came back to you, but _you_ were the one who ultimately walked away from what we had.”

“Yeah,” Jensen admitted. “And it was the right thing to do.”

Jared stared at him. “Seriously?” he asked. “You’re sitting here and seriously telling me that fucking me over and leaving me like a bride in front of the altar was the right thing to do?”

Jensen refused to back down. “Lose the drama, JT, it’s been two years and we’ve both moved on, had other relationships, done stupid things. I can’t change what I did back then, I can only say that I’m sorry that I hurt you. It’s the one thing I regret.”

“The one thing?” Jared said almost musingly. “All the things you did two years ago, _that’s_ the one thing you regret?”

Jensen was unsure where Jared was going with this. “You’re the only person I haven’t apologized to,” he said. “While I was in the monastery, the Lama told me that to live with regret is to be poisoned slowly.” Jensen willed Jared to understand. “I’m sick of hating myself for what happened. I want us to be friends again.” He held out a hand. “Can we at least _try_ to be friends again?”

For a sickening heartbeat, Jensen was sure that Jared wasn’t going to take his hand. But then long, warm fingers wrapped around his and Jared met his eyes. “I’m willing to try if you are,” he said and smiled.

Right there was the smile that Jensen had missed every day for almost two years. His dimples making deep creases in his cheeks and eyes bright with joy, Jared’s smile made everything seem possible. Even if it was only for a moment.

Mama Cat came over then. “You two done with the heart-to-heart?” she asked.

Jared nodded. “Chick flick moments make me hungry, Mama,” he said and patted his belly. “I need man food to help cleanse the palate.”

Jensen watched Jared flirt with Mama Cat, still not sure where they were right now but willing to hope that at least there wouldn’t be a murder on the tennis courts.

“I’ll bring you your meal now,” Mama Cat said. “Stop being stupid,” she ordered them both and headed for the kitchen.

Jensen looked over at Jared. “Stop being stupid?” he mouthed. And Jared laughed.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/E5C35559-B644-48BB-A804-25D44467AB81-8321-0000098495273BE6.jpg.html)

****

_game_

That was the start of their partnership. Jensen was very careful to keep things as professional as possible, as professional as two ultra-competitive former number one tennis players could be.

There was a lot of fighting, swearing, threats and dramatic exits off the tennis courts. Kane spent way too much time playing matchmaker when either one of them threw in the figurative towel and vowed to never set foot on a court again.

Slowly Jared and Jensen got to be friends again. It happened in almost invisible increments. Six months after their dinner at Papa Joe’s, Jensen looked around Jared’s bathroom and noticed that some of his own personal toiletries had migrated over to Jared’s house.

He left a change of clothes in one of Jared’s spare rooms for the times that they showered after a practice session and headed out to meet Kane or Fed and Rafa.

Somehow, while Jensen had been in Tibet finding himself, Jared and Misha had become friends. Misha spent a lot of time with Jared, and Jensen worked hard at not resenting him. The irony of Jared being jealous of Misha way back when he’d been Jensen’s physiotherapist was not lost on Jensen.

The first time Misha had dropped by when Jensen was there had been a little awkward. Jared hadn’t said anything, just stood back and let Jensen sort out his own mess.

All it had taken was an apology and Misha had let it go with a smile. “We’re good,” was all he had said and Jensen had been amazed to realize that all of his fears had been for nothing.

“Thanks, Misha,” Jensen had said. “Can we start fresh?” He held out a hand.

“Of course,” Misha’s smile was remarkably serene. “Perhaps we can enjoy a yoga class together some time?” He folded his hands in front of him, looking for all the world like the Lama at morning prayers.

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “You heard about the monastery,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Misha’s eyes twinkled. “You shaved your head?” he asked. “That must have been a good look on you.”

Jensen scowled. “I fucking meditated my ass off,” he told Misha.

“You sound as though it did you a world of good.” Misha dead-panned.

Jensen gave a startled laugh. “You have been spending way too much time with Assalecki,” he said.

Misha grinned. “Jared has been teaching me how to be more aggressive.”

“Oh god,” Jensen groaned. 

“Seriously though,” Misha dropped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you found some peace of mind.”

“You gonna hug me and sing ‘Kumbayah’ now?” Jensen asked with a small smile. “Thanks for pointing me in the right direction, man. I wasn’t in the right head-space to listen to it then, but when I stopped being a dick, I was really grateful.”

Soon Jensen found himself looking forward to the times when Misha would come by and share some strange observation from the world he lived in.

It was a world that Jensen didn’t recognize at all. Jared was convinced that Misha was an alien and Jensen though he might actually be right.

Fed and Rafa spent some time taunting them, asking when they were going to stop being chickenshit and join the tour. Jensen wasn’t going to rush into anything this time. This second chance was way too important to fuck up.

“JT?” Jensen pushed the front door open and walked into Jared’s house. He had his own key now, the gate code and access to the tennis courts if he ever felt the need to hit a few balls when Jared wasn’t around.

The house was silent and Jensen wondered where Jared was. They didn’t have an arrangement today but Jensen had come by on the off chance that Jared might feel like an hour or two of tennis.

He dropped his gym bag in the spare room and changed his shoes. The ball machine would have to do as a partner today. He picked up his racquet and headed towards the side door leading to the courts. He heard a sound from upstairs and stopped. “JT?” he called again.

The sound came again and Jensen hefted the racquet in his hand like a baseball bat. He stole up the stairs, trying to keep his trainers from squeaking on the tiles. He stopped when he reached the top of the stairs and waited to hear where the sound was coming from. He heard it again and it sounded like it came out of Jared’s room.

He crept forward, keeping his center of gravity low as he pushed the bedroom door open carefully. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jared on the bed, sheets hitched low on his hips and tossing in what appeared to be a fitful dream.

Jensen took a moment to appreciate the view but the noise Jared made was so full of pain that Jensen was moving and putting his hand on Jared’s shoulder before he was even aware of it. “JT,” he said and Jared’s eyes flew open.

The next second Jared had hauled him up and over and was looming over him, body hard and damp with sweat. Jensen tried to stop his heart from shoving its way out of his throat. Jared’s eyes were bright and intense on his. “Any particular reason you’re in my room, Jen?” Jared’s voice was sleep-rough and it went straight to Jensen’s cock.

“I thought there might be an intruder,” Jensen said. “There was a noise…”he licked suddenly dry lips and Jared’s gaze tracked the movement.

“No intruder,” Jared pointed out. He smiled down at Jensen and it was all teeth. “Just me.”

“You were dreaming,” Jensen said, trying to maintain some sort of control. But Jared was _there_ all hot skin and hard hands, and Jensen wanted. He’d been so very careful about holding back. He’d let Jared take the lead this time, too scared of fucking up. But here, now, with Jared curling over him, Jensen just _wanted_.

“Do you want to know what I was dreaming about?” Jared asked. His hands were gentle now, moving in slow circles over Jensen’s skin. He wanted to press close and push away from Jared at the same time.

“Seemed like a bad one,” Jensen said. He held himself still. Didn’t want to move just in case Jared was doing this in some half-asleep, half-awake mode.

“You were leaving me,” Jared said and the words were blunt and harsh in contrast to the soft motion of his hands over Jensen’s skin. “Always, leaving me.”

Jensen went still beneath Jared. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you like this.” He hated seeing the damage he’d done.

Jared stared down at him. “We’re better, right?” he asked and for a moment he seemed so very young.

“Yes,” Jensen breathed. “We’re so much better, JT.”

And Jared dropped his head slowly. Slowly enough that if Jensen had wanted to, he could have turned away. Jensen didn’t want to move. He never wanted to move again.

Jared’s mouth was warm on his, lips soft and seeking, almost tentative. It was completely unlike Jared had been while they’d been together.

Jensen pulled back, pushing Jared up with a gentle hand to his face. “What is this, JT?” he asked. He didn’t want to fuck up the new friendship they’ve been building.

Jared’s expression turned serious. “It’s what I want,” he said. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, Jen. Even when you were being a dickhead, even when you ran away to Tibet to be a monk.” His eyes twinkled a little at the last.

Jensen snorted a laugh. “I didn’t run away to be a monk, you asshole,” he said, but he let his body relax a little, enjoy the feeling of Jared pressing him down.

“So, can I kiss you again?” Jared asked.

Jensen met his gaze, a little terrified now. “JT, you need to promise me something,” he said and he lifted his hands to Jared’s shoulders.

Jared frowned and said, “Okay. What?”

“You need to promise me that no matter what happens between us, this,” he lifted one hand and flapped it between them, “thing that we do that we can’t seem to stop doing, that it doesn’t fuck us up again.” He made a sound of annoyance. “Fuck, my brain honestly has no edit function when I’m around you.”

Jared grinned. “That made no sense, you know that, right?”

Jensen glared at him. “I want you to promise that we are partners, no matter if the sex thing ends or doesn’t start or gets shot to shit. We’re good together on the court and I don’t want that fucked up.”

“Okay,” Jared said.

Jensen stared up at him. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” Jared repeated. “If the sex thing gets messy, I won’t let it affect our professional relationship.” He lifted up a hand and crooked his little finger. “Pinky swear.”

“You are such an asshole,” Jensen muttered.

Jared waggled his pinky and Jensen glared a little more but finally gave in and curled his finger around Jared’s.

“ _Now_ can I kiss you?” Jared asked.

If Jensen’s brain had been distracted by the conversation, his body certainly hadn’t been. Months of celibacy, constantly hanging around Jared and not being able to touch, had made him horny as shit. 

“Fine,” he said, acting like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was and they both knew it.

Jared lowered his head and brushed his mouth against Jensen’s. This time, Jensen was ready for it and he parted his lips a little. He let the scent of Jared invade him so that he felt like he was drowning in him.

Jared pressed slightly harder and Jensen opened his mouth more, allowed his tongue to touch Jared’s. And then all bets were off. Jared growled into his mouth and dropped his hips so that Jensen could feel how hard he was.

“You need to tell me when you want to stop, Jen,” Jared said against his mouth. “I’m not going to be the one putting on the brakes here.”

He moved his lips lower, to the line of Jensen’s throat and nipped at the skin as he made his way down.

Jensen arched his throat and sucked in much-needed air. The problem with them had never been in the bedroom and it was both familiar and new as he felt Jared tug at his shirt.

“Little overdressed here, Jen?” Jared murmured against his skin.

Jensen allowed Jared to wrestle him out of his shirt and then they were skin to skin for the first time in what felt like decades. Jensen wanted to take a moment to appreciate the smoothness, the heat, the muscles, but Jared was intent on making up for lost time.

Jared’s hands were everywhere, smoothing across Jensen’s chest, tweaking his nipples and rubbing against the front of his shorts where Jensen’s cock was straining to get out.

“JT,” Jensen gasped and bowed back as Jared sucked a kiss into the curve of his hip. “Fuck! That’s going to leave a mark, you fucker.”

Jared lifted his head and looked at him, eyes dark with passion. “I’m planning on marking you all over, Jen. Just so that you and the rest of the fucking world remember who you belong to.”

Caveman Jared had always been a sort of secret turn-on for Jensen. He’d never let Jared know but somehow his body must have betrayed him, stupid cock, because Jared’s smile turned filthy.

“JT,” Jensen warned but Jared was too busy pulling off Jensen’s shoes and socks. Jensen realized that Jared had been naked all this time and wondered what that said about him that he’d been oblivious until now.

“You need to be more naked, Jen,” Jared told him and tugged his shorts and boxers down his legs.

Jensen tried not to think about the fact that the last time he’d been naked with Jared had been almost three years ago and he’d been younger and firmer.

“Stop it, Jen.” Jared stared at him. “You’re still the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

Jensen felt himself flush. Jared had always been able to make him hard with a word, with a touch. “It’s been a while,” he confessed.

Jared paused and his hand crept up and rested at the top of Jensen’s thigh. “How long?” he asked. It seemed as though the answer was important to him.

“At least a year,” Jensen admitted and then his brain turned into mush as Jared’s mouth wrapped around his cock. He closed his eyes as he tried to think of anything else but how fucking amazing it felt to have Jared giving him head.

The sounds Jared made were obscene. Jensen had always been teased about his cock-sucking lips, but Jared was the one who really enjoyed it. Jensen felt his balls draw up tight and hard, and he tapped Jared on the shoulder to let him know that he was at the edge of coming.

Jared looked along the length of Jensen’s body, his eyes dark and sly. He drew hard on the tip of Jensen’s cock and just watched him as he fell apart.

“Can I fuck you?” Jared asked and his voice slightly hoarse, sending shivers down Jensen’s spine.

“God, please,” Jensen begged, his body lax and open after his orgasm.

Jared moved up his body and reached over him to his bedside drawer. The lube and condoms were within easy reach and he handed Jensen a condom while he drizzled lube onto his fingers. “Tell me when you’re ready,” Jared said and pressed one finger against Jensen’s hole.

Jensen gasped and lifted his hips as Jared pushed into him, one finger and then another. Jensen felt his body opening to Jared, just as it always had and he bit back a shout when one long finger brushed over his prostate.

“That’s it,” Jared crooned. “There’s the spot.” He spent several moments making sure that every nerve ending in Jensen’s body was dancing as he stroked the spot over and over again.

“Please, JT,” Jensen grabbed Jared’s hand. “Please, just fuck me already.”

Jared’s hands were shaking too hard to tear open the condom packet. “Put it on me,” he said to Jensen. The sticky latex did nothing to shield Jensen’s fingers from the heat of Jared’s cock.

And then Jared was pushing into him, hot, hard and filling him more perfectly than anyone ever did. Jensen had forgotten just how right it felt and then Jared’s hips were moving so that he hit Jensen’s prostate with every thrust.

Jensen lifted his legs and wrapped them around Jared’s hips, his hands dug into Jared’s shoulders and he hung on. Jared dropped his face into the curve of Jensen’s shoulder and bit down as he came. Jensen couldn’t hold on for too long, his arms and legs turned to jello as he shook through the aftermath of Jared’s orgasm.

Jared didn’t move for a while and for once, Jensen was okay with just lying there and being covered by a Jared-sized blanket.

“I’d forgotten how good we are together,” Jared confessed into Jensen’s neck.

“Yeah,” Jensen said and he allowed his hands to stroke up and down the length of Jared’s back. It felt good and right and so scarily perfect that he didn’t want to think too hard about it.

“We’re not fucking this up,” Jared told him. He pulled out of Jensen and rolled the condom off. Jensen winced a little at the unfamiliar ache between his thighs and watched as Jared tossed the condom haphazardly towards a small bin.

“I don’t want to,” Jensen said. He turned into the curve of Jared’s body and allowed himself to be drawn into the circle of Jared’s arms. “But you know what an idiot I can be.”

Jared’s warmth was both a comfort and a turn-on, always had been, and Jensen had almost lost him forever. “How about we agree to talk about shit?” Jared suggested, his chin resting on the top of Jensen’s head.

“I can try,” Jensen said. He wasn’t used to sharing how he felt, but if it meant more moments like this, with Jared, then he’d fucking try.

“ _We’ll_ try,” Jared said and Jensen smiled. He pressed a kiss against Jared’s chest, right where the lub-dub of his heart beat sounded the strongest.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Jared’s arms tightened around him and Jensen allowed himself to fall asleep.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/EDD8D7F8-8068-4FD6-B463-597930ED4301-8321-0000098490817BE9.jpg.html)

****

_set_

  
_Roland Garros, France_  


It was their second tournament together, their first Grand Slam. They were in the semi-finals and Jensen was shaking like a leaf. 

They’d played the Madrid Open earlier in the month and had made the quarter-finals of the doubles competition.

Kane had been ecstatic.

Jensen and Jared had been cautiously optimistic. They’d opted out of the Australian Open, feeling that they needed more time to get Jensen back to the kind of form it took to win tournaments. It had been worth it. Even if Kane had practically bitten off his own arm trying to not push them harder than they were prepared to go.

They were playing the Bryan brothers and Jensen liked the twins but he was ready to wipe the court with them. Almost two weeks of competition had reminded him just how much he loved this game.

He bounced the ball a couple more times and Jared caught his eye. Clay was Jared’s favorite surface, grass was Jensen’s, and right now they had the chance to make history. Two former number one singles players, both side-lined with injuries playing together in a Grand Slam doubles semi.

Jensen’s first serve went wide, the red clay kicking up just past the service line. He didn’t bother challenging and focused on placing his second serve. 

There was plenty of top-spin on this one and Bob Bryan was at full-stretch when he made the return.

Jared caught the volley and sent a smooth backhand slicing down the center line, just out of Mike’s reach.

“Fifteen – love.”

Jensen was sure he heard Kane’s triumphant crowing in the crowd.

He got the next serve in, almost an ace, as Mike barely got his racquet to it. 

“Thirty – love.”

Jensen put as much heat on the serve as he could and Bob skipped out of the way. Jared turned to look at him and smirked. “Ate your Wheaties today, babe?” he teased.

“Forty – love.”

“Breakfast of champions,” Jensen agreed.

He missed his first serve again, smashing it into the net where it popped over and fell just out of the zone. Jensen scowled and knocked his racquet against the soles of his shoes. The thick red clay stuck to everything.

He narrowed his eyes and aimed his second serve for just over the net, where it dropped almost dead before the baseline. The crowd howled its approval.

“Game: Padalecki, Ackles. Two sets all, five games to four: Bryan, Bryan, fifth set.”

Jared sat down next to Jensen. “You know it’s okay if we lose,” he said.

Jensen gulped down his water. It was soothing on his dry throat. “I know,” he said. He looked over at the Bryan brothers. “Fucking hell, JT, how the fuck did we manage to get to the semi-finals of the French Open?”

Jared shook his head. “I have no fucking idea, man.” And then he grinned. “But it’s fucking awesome.”

Jensen grinned back at him. “It really fucking is.”

Losing that match wasn’t as hard as Jensen had thought it would be. It may have had something to do with the fact that Jared had promised to perform filthy and possibly illegal acts on him when they got back to their apartment in Paris.

Jensen was willing to accommodate him. Losing sucked after all. He needed lots of comforting.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/E5C35559-B644-48BB-A804-25D44467AB81-8321-0000098495273BE6.jpg.html)

****

_match_

  
_All England Club, Wimbledon, England_  


Jensen had to serve for the match. He was terrified and exhilarated and so ready to be off the court and in a hot shower with Jared. In that order.

He looked over to the players’ box. Kane, Steve and Misha were almost falling off their chairs in excitement. Kane’s face was impassive but his eyes were dancing with glee. Jensen could practically see the dollar signs. The asshole. 

Ollie was sitting between Rosey and Tom. They’d come to London as a favor to Jensen and he was glad to see them looking so happy. According to Rosey, they’d been married in fifteen countries so far. The next stop was England. Jensen and Jared had been invited to the ceremony just after Wimbledon was over. 

Ollie waved frantically, face shining with joy, and Jensen lifted his racquet with a small smile, acknowledging him. It had been so much fun having the kid with them. Experiencing live on the tour through Ollie’s eyes had been awesome. It had also made Jared a little broody. Jensen was sure that Jared was plotting an adoption. Human, animal or other was up in the air. Jensen was okay with starting small, maybe with a dog.

Jared came over to him and they bumped fists. “You holding up okay?” Jared whispered over the noise of the crowd.

Jensen rolled the two new balls around in his hand. “Knee is shot to shit, but I’m doing okay,” he quipped. 

Jared’s gaze was steady. “You want to stop this, we stop it,” he told Jensen.

“No, I’m good.” Jensen shook his head. “This is more than we ever hoped for.”

Jared stared at him. “Nothing is more important than you, Jensen,” he said and his eyes were terribly serious.

Jensen swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Well, let’s end this and see what happens later, okay?” he suggested.

Jared gave a short nod and took his place at the net, crouched like some huge bird of prey, prepared for when the ball came back his way.

Jensen served, sending the ball kicking out to the far side of the right court. Rafa raced after it, managed to get the edge of his racquet on it and it sailed back towards Jared, slipping over the net. Jared scooped it up and hit it hard down the line, rocketing past Roger into the back of the court. He lifted a hand in apology to the linesman who had thrown his body to the side to avoid being hit.

Jensen grinned to himself and moved to bump fists with Jared. “That looked like it might have hurt,” he noted.

Jared’s mouth ticked up in a smile. “It missed,” he said, raising one shoulder, and went back to his position.

“Fifteen – love.”

Jensen leaned back into the motion of the serve and hit the ball hard and flat. It skidded past the far corner and Roger sent it back with interest.

Jared took a couple of steps back but stopped when he saw that Jensen had it under control. Jensen stepped into the ball and sliced it with enough topspin that it bounced once and veered off to the other side of the court where Rafa completely misjudged it.

“Thirty – love.”

Jared came to Jensen to bump fists and shook his head. “You’ve still got it,” he said and Jensen felt that tug of memory.

“ _We’ve_ got it,” he told Jared and was rewarded with a bright smile and a flash of dimples. It felt amazing to be in love with tennis all over again.

“Go for the body serve,” Jared said. “Rafa hates body serves.” 

Jensen obeyed, hitting the serve hard and straight to where Rafa was standing on the baseline. The Spaniard’s racquet curled awkwardly as he tried to get hold of the serve but it was impossible. Jensen looked over at the ball speed and was pleasantly surprised to see his serve had hit the 140 miles per hour range. 

“Forty – love.”

He met Jared in the middle of the court and they did their fist-bump. “Match point,” Jared noted.

“Yeah,” Jensen said, trying for nonchalant. 

“Stop freaking out,” Jared said.

“I’m not freaking out,” Jensen denied and then shook his head. “Stop reading my mind, bitch.”

“Stop being so fucking easy to read, jerk.” Jared smiled at him. 

The next serve to Roger was returned hard and fast and Jensen had to scramble halfway across the court to retrieve it. His knee screamed in protest as he skidded past the base line, grass almost greasy beneath him, and missed.

“Forty – fifteen.”

Jared shook his head. “That’s okay, it’s just one point.” They bumped fists again and Jensen sucked in a breath.

“I’m going to fuck this up, JT,” Jensen said, feeling the panic setting in. 

“You are not going to fuck anything up, Jensen.” Jared’s eyes were intent on him. “Take a breath and serve for the match.” His fingers curled around Jensen’s. “I believe in you,” he said. “In us.”

Jensen stared at him and his heart spun in stupid circles in his chest. “You are _so_ getting lucky tonight,” he promised and went back to the baseline. 

The serve was curving with topspin and Rafa managed to get his racquet to it, sending it flying back towards Jared. Jared’s long, lean body was at full stretch as he managed to tap it back over the net. The short volley wasn’t quite short enough to prevent Roger from getting to it. He sent it back to Jensen with a blistering forehand that skated down the line. Jensen barely got there in time and he hit it back towards Rafa who pounced as soon as it cleared the net. 

High, hard and dropping like a stone, Jensen kept his eye on the ball as it hurtled towards him. He smashed it back before it touched the ground. Both Roger and Rafa raced to get to it but they missed, and through a haze of shock he heard the chair umpire announce, “Game, set and championship: Ackles, Padalecki.”

Suddenly his arms were full of a whooping Padalecki and he automatically closed them around Jared.

“Holy shit, we did it, Jensen!” Jared was shouting in his ear and Jensen closed his eyes and pressed his face against Jared’s broad shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Jensen breathed as he heard the crowd shouting and applauding. He could hear Ollie screaming from the players’ box and knew that Kane was holding him back from launching himself out of the enclosure. “We did it.”

Jared’s big hands cupped his face and he smiled at Jensen. “Remember that promise?” he asked, holding up his hand and crooking his finger. Jensen’s face went hot but he linked his pinky with Jared’s and smiled back at him. “We won, so we won,” Jared said.

And kissed him, right there in the center of Centre Court. 

Jensen’s knee didn’t hurt at all.

[ ](http://s1252.photobucket.com/user/SACyd/media/spnj2BB13/tennischibissm.png.html)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of people to thank. But seriously, without them this fic would not have been written. And even if it had, it would be freaking awful. 
> 
> To risti who said _give me more tennis_ so I did. Alpha reader of awesome.
> 
> To my amazeballs artist transfixeddream who told me _write a scene in the monastery_ and it turned out to be one of my faves. And then went on to make me gorgeous art. Chibis! Please shower with praise :D
> 
> To my lovely & put-upon inbetweencabs who begged me not to hate her when she told me to change the _ENTIRE WAY I’D SET UP MY FIC_ and I wept because she was totally right. I love her and I hate her. 
> 
> To my grammar Nazi sbb23 who wrote me long notes about how much sense I _wasn’t_ making in my timeline. And _SHE WAS FREAKING RIGHT TOO!_. So much of tears.
> 
> To my latest & greatest framedhim thank you for that final read through. It helps having a fresh pair of eyes when you’ve read something so many times. She told me it didn’t suck & that she knew nothing about tennis but still liked it! 
> 
> My twitter cheerleaders (ya’ll know who you are & how much it meant to have you encouraging me every step of the way). 
> 
> And last, but by no means least, thank you to wendy and the other mods of spn_j2_bigbang. You are ruthless, organized and utterly fabulous. That’s why this Bang is the best of the year.
> 
> All mistakes are completely my own.


End file.
